"Here is friendship,--mirth is here,
Woodland music,--woodland cheer,
And, with hope and blended fear,
Here is love's delightful folly.
Summer gilds the smiling day,
Summer clothes the tufted spray,
Earth is green and heaven is gay,
Wherefore should we not be jolly?"--_Heber._
The morning of the wished-for picnic day broke with a brilliance far
exceeding the most sanguine expectation. On the previous evening angry
clouds had attended the sun to his couch of rest; the distant
thunder-boom had made many a bosom quail for the next day, and many an
anxious eye had peeped forth in the early dawning half expecting to see
the rain falling fast; they were agreeably surprised to find not a cloud
obscured the sky, and a mist that hung o'er hill, woodland, and river
betokened a fine, hot, if not sultry day was beginning. From an early
hour all was bustle and excitement at the Towers; the Earl presided over
the busy servants packing hampers of good things, and wines of the
choicest flavour, and himself superintended everything, being here,
there, and everywhere, and seeming to have a hundred pair of hands. When
he gave a pleasure, he always liked to do it in style, and was
determined nothing should be wanting to render the amusement of the day
perfect. Many of the visitors assisted the Earl in his tasks, and Johnny
hurraed loud when he saw the carts start for the festive scene, groaning
under plenty of good cheer. About eleven o'clock the courtyard was full
of carriages, coachmen held the reins, and grooms led many horses ready
saddled for those who preferred riding. Many fair girls in light summer
attire and hats, and many gentlemen, some equipped for driving, and
others booted and spurred, filled the yard; laughter and jest made the
old turreted towers ring again with glee. Carriage after carriage was
filled, and drove off for the Peel; last of all the Earl's own coroneted
barouche and four left for the gay scene; the carriage was an open one,
but able to shut in case of rain, of which there appeared little
likelihood. The Earl himself drove the four iron grays, adorned with
blue ribbons on the nets which protected them from the flies. By the
Earl sat Johnny in high feather, and inside were the Marquis and
Marchioness, Lady Florence, and Ellen Ravensworth. Several equestrians
rode by the carriage, chatting and laughing with the fair occupants, and
now and then spurring on to catch up some other vehicle. Conspicuous
among the horsemen were the Captain and Edward L'Estrange,--the former
wore the same garb he had appeared in amongst the haymakers; the latter,
instead of a white kerchief, wore a scarf of the finest Indian texture
for a turban, and the crimson silk, figured with gold, showed off his
dark countenance to perfection; they were both mounted on splendid
animals, which they managed with all the grace and ease of finished
horsemen.
"Let us take a short cut over the park; I know a by-road to the spot,"
said the Captain, turning his horse and putting him to the wooden
wattling which he cleared with scarcely an effort, and quickened his
pace into a gallop, followed closely by L'Estrange over the smooth
grass. A ten minutes' freshener brought them to the by-path, and here
they checked their panting coursers to a trot, and finally a walk, as
they entered the road upon which they guided their horses whose blood
was now up, and who impatiently paced along, snorting, tossing their
heads, and champing the bits.
"So ho! gently, Terror, old boy, gently," said the Captain, patting the
lithe arching neck of his beautiful black hunter, who snuffed the air
through his thin transparent nostrils, and struck the ground as if
burning for the chase, while his eye dilated and seemed to flash fire.
As if he understood his master, the noble Arab stepped out more calmly,
and the Captain said, "Archy Forbes is a smart fellow, a very knowing
fellow, by my soul, and will prove a great help. I have engaged him for
my own particular servant, and sent my old man about his business."
"Do you not think we have too many in the plot?" remarked L'Estrange.
"No, I cannot say I do. There is Musgrave, as safe as wax, no fear of
his betraying us. Old Forbes, my foster-father, would sooner hang than
breathe a word, he is a dog that will not open cry falsely. There's
Stacy, a gallows bird that will not tempt the light! Archy is as unapt
to give out a secret as the rock is to unlock its waters. The only one I
fear is Antonia, or Juana if you like; a woman's tongue is the unsafest
keep going."
"I fear not Juana," replied L'Estrange; "a whisper from her would cut
her own throat."
"It might, indeed, were she rash enough to inculpate me," said the
Captain, with a cruel laugh. "We must push on, Ned, or some of these
carriages will overhaul us before I have seen old Stacy."
So saying he spurred his horse, nothing loth, into a hand gallop, and
the two intriguers rode side by side up the rising road, on either bank
of which rose dark pines, which had scattered their sprays on the
pathway, and made a soft yet firm footing for the horses. It was going
on for noon, but the sun could not pierce the dense fir woods, save here
and there where his ray formed a bright line across the road. The air
was still sultry in the extreme, and not a breath of wind was stirring.
Squirrels and rabbits, scared by the approaching riders, from time to
time crossed the road, and the wood pigeons, alarmed by the clatter,
flew off, flapping their wings loudly. As the two officers rode side by
side--dressed almost alike as they were--the resemblance found out by
their fellow-comrades in arms was all the more striking. The same
military seat and air--the same bronzed complexions and arched
noses--the same dark hair and moustache; there was yet a distinctive
difference: L'Estrange was still more sunburnt and swarthy in look,
probably from his having served in India, as well as his early life
spent in the tropics, yet there was a softer expression, a milder air
about his face than was to be found in the Captain's, whose eyes, more
dark and unrelenting, stood avenged against his friend's, rather soft
than fiery.
But if in feature they resembled each other, in character they were as
different as light from darkness. Captain de Vere was a bold, fearless
man, whose boast was he neither feared God nor regarded his
fellow-creatures; in his affections light, in his passions headstrong,
he loved no one but himself, nor cared how he hurt another's feelings
provided he pleasured his own. If he took offence he was a terrible
foe--implacable, vindictive, and unforgiving. L'Estrange was brave,
without being the same fearless, dare-devil man the Captain was;
naturally inclined to be devotional and benevolent, it was his
misfortune, rather than his fault, to see and approve the better, while
he followed the worse; by nature also full of affection, he more deeply
felt rejected love, and yet was generally able to have full mastery
over his passions, and hold them under his control. He was neither
selfish nor unforgiving in character, and it was an evil day that he
linked himself with the Captain, who, being of a far stronger character,
naturally led L'Estrange, more weak and vacillating, into all sorts of
evil he would never have fallen into if left to himself. Some men are
wicked by nature, such was the Captain--others are wicked by evil
example and misfortune, such was L'Estrange.
Half an hour's gallop brought the friends to their journey's end.
Cessford's Peel, or Castle, was an old watch tower, once strongly
fortified, and still in excellent repair. Built at the bottom of a dark
glen, through which foamed a mountain burn, its gray crest just peeped
above the woods; the keep was covered with ivy, amid which numbers of
jackdaws had built their nests. The Peel was built close to the march of
the Earl's estates; a cross-road led from its doorway to the high-road,
which ran along the top of the dell. The tower had an ill reputation,
having been the scene of some terrible murder in olden times, and the
popular belief was it was haunted by the spirit of the sufferer. In
front was a large open lawn, surrounded by woods on all sides, and
sloping down to the torrent. Beneath the shadow of the trees to the
right was a huge stone, perhaps ten feet in diameter, and round as
Arthur's table; its top was as level as the nether millstone, and was
covered with moss. On this verdant table it was proposed to spread the
banquet. Indeed, if it had been created on purpose, a better place for a
picnic could hardly be found: the turreted castle, with its woods and
hills around, formed a landscape on which the eye delighted to
rest,--the level stone for a table,--the green grass for a
dancing-board,--the burn for a well to cool the wines;--while the hum
of bees, the carol of wood warblers, and distant murmur of falling
waters made music to the ear.
On a broken-down dyke sat an old man in seaman's dress, smoking his pipe
in the sunshine, and apparently little caring for the prospect around.
The young officers, when they reached this delightful spot, dismounted,
and taking off the saddles and bridles from their horses tethered them
to a stone beneath the shadow of the trees, and left them to pasture
there at their pleasure. Having seen their steeds well cared for, their
next action was to cross the meadow and address the old man.
"What fool's errand is this? The foul fiend take your merry makings."
"How now, old drudge--dare you blaspheme?" said the Captain;
"nevertheless, I hate your picnics, and you may be sure had no hand in
this."
"Could you not have steered elsewhere? is there not sea-room enough
without tacking here with your mummeries?"
"What the devil had I to do with it? However, you will see laughing, and
dancing, and merriment enough to make the fiends howl. Is Antonia to do
what I asked?"
"Yees," answered Bill Stacy, for he it was; "but devil take it, if there
ain't one of their confounded craft come already, and I must sheer off."
"Like fun; be earthed, you old fox!"
With an angry growl the old man disappeared over the wall, and cursing
the folly that compelled him to do so--for naturally Bill's heart
anything but revived, at the sight of the waggons--stowed himself away
in one of the deep dungeons, while our friends stepped forward to meet
the newly-arrived guests, who proved to be Mr. Lennox and his daughter,
rather a dashing, spirited girl of seventeen. They were accompanied by
Sir Richard and young Scroop.
"Who was that remarkable looking individual you were addressing?" asked
Mr. Lennox of the Captain.
"God only knows; some old tramp, I suppose, whom I sent about his
business," replied the Captain, inwardly cursing Mr. Lennox for a prying
fool, and meddler in what did not concern him.
"He looked so mysterious, and vanished so remarkably, I really fancied
you knew more about him."
"What in the devil's name could I know about the old villain--a
miscreant I never before saw in my life?" scornfully answered the
Captain, and then in a side voice whispered to Sir Richard--"I wish to
God the conceited coxcomb had not seen us--these inquisitorial
blockheads never know when to hold their tongue."
Meanwhile all the party had arrived, and whilst old Andrew and a dozen
men laid out a magnificent cold repast on the natural table, which they
covered with several damask cloths, the guests, in parties of two and
three, commenced exploring the dell and woods, till a blast blown by
Wilton summoned the stragglers together. It was about two when all was
prepared, and a merry party of nearly thirty sat down to their feast;
some on stones which were scattered around the monster table, and some
on shawls and plaids. All the usual accompaniments of a picnic were
present--the clatter of knives and forks, the popping of champagne
bottle corks, the laughter, wit, and prompt repartee, the thousand
pretty compliments to the fair sex, and now and then the cry of some
girl as a wasp or bee disputed possession of her platter. All went off
with the greatest glee and good-temper. At the head of the rocky table
presided the Earl, with his sister the Marchioness and Ellen on either
side. Johnny, seated next to Lady Florence, kept up perpetual merriment
with her, and Mr. Lennox had insinuated himself between two dukes, one
of whom was his cousin, as he informed every one, and felt in the
seventh heaven of pride and happiness. All the others sat around, whilst
on the top of the Duke of Buccleuch's drag might be seen the Captain,
Lord Arranmore, Scroop, Sir Richard Musgrave, L'Estrange, and a few
others who preferred their own company, and drank champagne from
tumblers. When the assemblage had broken up and the greater part of the
company disappeared in the woods, these worthies might still be seen _en
haut_ in high glee.
"You look very comfortable up there," said Lady Florence, who passed
below with one of the Ladies Scott and another young lady. "I think some
of you might have the gallantry to chaperone us over the haunted tower,
we do not dare to go alone."
"D--t--n!" cried the Captain, aside to L'Estrange, "who the deuce would
have thought of that? This grows worse and worse."
"I can go, and avoid the dungeons."
"No, I will; it will be easy to frighten these simpletons so much they
will not tempt the lower regions," said the Captain, in a low voice, and
then aloud, "I am your man; I will come and guard you against the
ghosts, Floss, and the murdered old dame: Musgrave and L'Estrange, come
along, there's a beau apiece for you."
"Dear me, wonders will never cease!" said Lady Florence, laughing, "when
you shelter young ladies, John."
Leading the way, the Captain strode towards the doorway, whilst
L'Estrange and Musgrave filled the girls' heads with nonsense, and
exaggerated tales of horror, mystery, and deeds of blood done in the
dark dungeons. The Peel was an old, antiquated-looking square tower, and
the rooms were lofty, with thin cross-shaped windows, which let in the
least possible light; the walls were hung with tapestry, behind which
were many secret doors. Ascending the irregular stone staircase, the
party, increased by several new members, began a close scrutiny of all
the chambers, and rummaged everywhere,--looking into every dark passage,
but getting more and more alarmed, to the Captain's great delight, who
magnified every sound made by the rats, which frequented the tower in
swarms, into the footsteps of bogles and goblins, and so worked on the
terrors of the ladies, that none had the hardihood to descend to the
dungeons, in one of which was hidden old Stacy. This being given up, by
universal consent they left the tower, and once more emerged on the
green grass. They found all the servants busily engaged devouring the
remains of the feast, like "filthy jackalls," as the Captain remarked,
"devouring the relics of the lions' repast." They then all commenced
roaming the woods, and the Captain and L'Estrange soon managed to give
them the slip, leaving Musgrave to take care of the ladies.
Whilst this party was busy searching the tower, the rest of the company
had proceeded, in parties of two and three, to the cool retreats of the
woods. The Earl, accompanied by his sister the Marchioness, and Ellen,
began rambling up the burn, along a rough footpath, in order to show
Ellen a waterfall at the top of the wood. Before they had proceeded far
they were met by the Marquis, with whom Lady Edith walked another way,
leaving the lovers alone. Taking Ellen's hand, the Earl helped her to
climb the path, rough with the roots of fir trees protruding from the
soil, and exceedingly steep. As they got still higher the acclivity
became more and more perpendicular, and the stones they loosened from
the hill side went thundering down below, crashing among the trees, till
they at last plunged into the brown waters. It was hot work as well as
arduous, and often they paused to rest on the fallen trees that now and
then lay across the pathway. Their footsteps on the withered fir
branches that strewed the ground, often started the denizens of the
wood,--the weasel, the rabbit, and the timid hare, that fled past them
like a shadow, stopped a moment, with ears erect, and then started off
again; and the wild pigeons, or cushats, as they are called in Scotland,
flew off their nests with a loud noise, as if one clapped his hands
together. As they neared the summit of the wood, the fall of the water
became more and more distinct, and soon they emerged from the dark trees
into sunshine and open air, and beheld the cascade they had so long
heard. The top of the wood opened on a rushy dell, surrounded on either
side by a half circle of high banks, on which blossomed the whin and
flowering broom. In front rose high rocks, over which raved and foamed
the black moss waters, lashed into foam by their descent; the troubled
waves then found a way through the centre of the dell, and were almost
hidden by reeds and bracken,--or, as the English call it, fern. Beneath
the cascade, on either side, grew several nut trees, and as the sun
shone brightly, their light green stood out boldly relieved against the
black rocks behind; through these trees were caught glimpses of the
flashing waters as they heaped themselves into a dark lynn that eddied
below. Countless insects,--dragon flies, azure wings, fritillaries, and
other butterflies sported in the sunshine over the rushes, and from them
the dell took its name of "Butterfly Dell." Half hid by the waterfall in
the sides of the rock, a large dark hollow was just visible, over which
danced the iris painted by the sunshine on the silvery spray,--now faint
and dimly distinguishable, now radiant and bright as the bow in the day
of rain. A few steps, rudely cut in the naked rock, led to the cavern,
towards which the lovers directed their steps. The Earl guided his fair
companion's footsteps up the rough stairs, assisting her with his arm,
and in another moment they were both inside the cool retreat. The air of
this grot was extremely pleasant after their hot climb; and, when their
eyes became accustomed to the dim light, they perceived a rootwork seat
placed against the further end of the cave which extended but a short
way into the rocks. From the roof of this cell dripped some fine
stalactites; and through the circular entrance they had a view of the
dell bathed in sunshine. The burn looked like a streak of silver thread
winding its way among the green rushes, and the trees rose dark behind;
now and then a light wind blew the vapoury mist of the fall past the
cave's entrance, and for a moment everything was lightly obscured. The
Earl and his fair partner sat down on the seat, and for some minutes
enjoyed the sweet scene in silence. We must, however, reserve their
conversation for another chapter, as this has already exceeded its
bounds.