THE SEDAN.
ADURNI. I will stand
The roughness of the encounter, like a gentleman,
And wait ye to your homes, whate'er befal me.
THE LADY'S TRIAL.
Lord Clermistonlee, as he anticipated, reached the Earl of
Dunbarton's house just when the company were separating. The guard
of horse was drawn up in the court-yard in courtesy to the guests.
Lumbering old-fashioned carriages were rolling solemnly away; sedans,
borne by liveried chairmen, and having lighted links flaring in the
night-wind before and behind them, were carried off at a trot through
the dark and devious windings of the city. The court on the north
side of the mansion was becoming comparatively still and empty, and
Clermistonlee, with no small anxiety for the success of his plot,
looked on all sides for his faithful Juden; but that pink of butlers
and factotum of his household was nowhere visible, and he searched in
vain for the green livery of Clermont faced with scarlet.
At this crisis a sedan approached bearing the blazon of Napier in a
widow's lozenge. It was borne by two men, in whom, though attired as
public chairmen, Clermistonlee recognised Juden and his nephew Jock,
a strong, lank-bodied fellow, who acted as valet, groom, errand-boy,
turnspit, &c., at his Lordship's lodging. He had coarse pimply
features, high cheek-bones, and a shock head of red hair waving under
a broad bonnet, piggish eyes, and a mouth of vast circumference. His
whole vocabulary consisted of a deep gutteral _ay_, with which he
replied to everything and everybody. Half knave, half idiot, he was
just the kind of ally required by Clermistonlee, to whom he was
intensely devoted, and to whom he looked up as something more than a
demigod.
"I am glad you have doffed the green and scarlet," said the lord.
"You have been a thought beyond me to-night, Juden. Have her
ladyship's sedans been summoned?"
"Half-an-hour syne, my lord."
"Indeed!" rejoined the other, in a breathless voice, and letting fall
the rocquelaure which muffled his face. "Mistress Lilian is not
departed! Rascal, if she has----"
"Hooly and fairly: we have just come for her, by her ladyship's
orders," grinned Juden. "A weary tramp we had to Bruntisfield wi'
the auld dame (devil tak' her!); but we coupit her at Dalryburn--ha!
ha!"
"How, sirrah? where were her chairmen?"
"Where they are even now--in the water-hole of the town-guard--a
dungeon vaulted wi' stane, dark as pitch, and half fu' o' water. Gif
your lordship does na ken sic a place, owre weel do I, for there I
passed fifteen weary days and eerie nights, after Bothwellbrig,
shivering like a rat in an ice-house."
"Gomeral! is this a place for thy pestilent reminiscences of
Bothwell? Ye obeyed my orders?"
"To the letter o' the law, as my lord Mersington says. I have made
Lady Grisel's servitors as fu' as strong October, reeking usquebaugh,
ay, and a three gallon runlet of gude red Rhenish, at sixpence the
quart, could make them. But then, by way o' repaying my hospitality,
they began misnaming your Lordship."
"What said the knaves?"
"That ye were but a cock-laird o' Cramond, for a' your baron's
coronet, and a fause whig and misleared covenanter at heart."
"Foh! it matters not," replied Clermistonlee. "I will have all those
varlets under my thumb ere long, and then I will teach them the
respect that is due to my coronet. A cock-laird! By all the devils,
they shall have their tongues bodkinned, and their ears nailed to the
Tron, as a terror to all such plebeian rascals. But what didst thou,
and this great baboon thy nephew, when these rascals made so free
with our family?"
"We sweeped the house wi' the hair o' their heads--eh, Jock?"
"Ay," gaped the personage appealed to.
"My birse rose at the first word, and drawing my whinger, I fell on
like a Stenton. Jock threw owre the buird and settles, and laid
about him wi' a three-leggit stule. The gudewife o' the change-house
scraighed like a howlet, and a' gaed to wreck. Shelves o' dishes and
tin flagons, caups and luggies, Leith crystal and Delft ware, iron
pots and pewter trenchers, a' flew like a hailstorm, and we laid
about us like naething that I mind o', but the tulzie at Bothwell,
when Dalyel's troopers broke the brig-ward, and fell on us sword in
hand."
"Bothwell again! Rascal, how often must I tell thee to recur to
those days no more?"
"In burst the toun-guard, wi' axe and pike, and carried them a' to
the water-hole, as disturbers o' the peace."
"And how did you escape?"
"At the very sight o' the red wyvern on my sleeve, the loons let me
go, as if my gude braid claith had been iron in a white heat: and sae
I am here."
"Excellent! for this night her people are safe. Thou art a priceless
fellow, Juden."
"When Lady Grisel's men were summoned, we changed our coats, and in
their places came as ye see. We bore her awa to the Place o'
Bruntisfield, and are now, by her orders, returned for Madam Lilian."
"Heaven is propitious to me to-night. But I fear me, thy dullard of
a nephew may spoil all."
At that moment the voice of the earl's chamberlain was heard
summoning "Mistress Napier's chair," and with much pretended bustle,
Juden and his cunning nephew, in their assumed character of
hack-chairmen, carried it up the broad flight of steps into the
brilliantly-lighted lobby, while, with a beating heart, Clermistonlee
withdrew a little, to observe the issue of his plans.
He waited what appeared to be an age; for Juden and his nephew had
been desired to remain in the court without for a time; and when
again they were summoned, Lilian Napier was in the chair, and when it
was brought forth, the little blinds of scarlet silk were so closely
drawn that Clermistonlee could not discern the least part of that
fairy form, over the beauties of which he revelled in fancy; and his
swart cheek glowed, his pulses quickened, as his unscrupulous
serving-men approached at a slow trot, carrying with ease the sedan,
though it was ponderous with black leather, gilded nails, and
armorial bosses.
Equally pleased and surprised that Walter Fenton was not escorting
it, Clermistonlee (who had pre-arranged to leave him dead among the
fields) silently opened the gate of the court which led to the
westward, and shrinking behind the shadow of a wall, almost held his
breath as the vehicle passed which contained that fair being for
whose possession he was risking so much odium and danger; but neither
were new to him. Regardless of the feelings of others, and dead to
every sense of honour, save that bull-headed valour which made the
cavaliers of his day fight to the death for matters of less value
than a soap-bubble, he had long been accustomed to gratify without a
scruple his strong and unruly passions.
He breathed more freely as his followers traversed the deserted road
that led to the barrier of Bristo, and thence striking westward,
proceeded by a narrow horseway leading to the thatched hamlet and
manor-house of Lauriston, a suburb a few hundred yards from the city
wall, which, with its row of embattled bastelhouses, rose on the
right hand.
It was a long and monotonous line of crenelated wall, the outline of
which was broken only by the spire of the old Greyfriars' Kirk (which
was accidentally blown-up in 1718 by powder stored therein by the
thrifty bailies of Edinburgh), the turrets of Heriot's Hospital, and
at intervals a fantastic stack of great black chimnies studded with
oyster-shells. On the left were fields of waving grain, and rows of
foliaged trees, that spread over the gradual slope to the sandy
margin of the beautiful lake. The little village was buried in
silence and sleep; all was hushed under the green thatch of its
humble cots. Scarcely a star was visible; it was nearly midnight,
and utter solitude surrounded them.
Poor Lilian! Her daring abductor had not as yet formed any defined
plan of ultimate procedure. His first object was to have Lilian
completely at his mercy, and nowhere could she be more so, than in
the strong and solitary house of Drumsheugh, watched by the infamous
being introduced to the reader in the preceding chapter.
Within the grated chambers of that house, which he had made the scene
of a thousand enormities, Clermistonlee hoped soon by terror,
persuasion, or force, to overcome the repugnance Lilian had so long
expressed for his addresses. The cold, but decided refusal, of old
Lady Grisel, the startled dismay and ill-concealed hauteur of Lilian,
when but a few months before he had made a somewhat abrupt and
unexpected proposal for her hand, now rose vividly to his mind, and
spurred him on to triumph and revenge.
He contemplated with a malicious satisfaction, that even if
to-morrow, or a week hence, he should free Lilian from durance, she
would go forth with a stain upon her reputation, and imputations upon
her honour, worse than death to a girl of her delicacy and
spirit--imputations which ultimately might force the proud little
beauty into his arms, when the web of his machinations was stronger,
and when even her lover would shrink from her as from one
contaminated.
Then would be his hour of triumph! and--but here his cogitations were
interrupted by the yelling of a great wolf-dog, which thrust its
black nose through the barbican-gate of the Highriggs, and barked
furiously.
Clermistonlee had hoped that, fatigued with dancing and the lateness
of the hour, sleep had overpowered Lilian, and now he trembled lest
she should awake, and by her cries summon aid to her rescue from this
old baronial mansion, which terminated the Portsburgh. In wrath, he
thrust with his long rapier at the dog; but its baying redoubled,
and, in great consternation, Juden and Jock hurried northward down
the slope at their utmost speed. To the joy of Clermistonlee, his
fair captive expressed no alarm, and the curtains of the sedan
remained undrawn. Her voice was unheard, and no sound broke the
stillness of the place, save the wind sweeping over the fields, and
the tramp of the chairmen's feet, as they ascended by a narrow bridle
path to the ancient gate of Drumsheugh.
"She is mine at last!" exclaimed the triumphant roué, through his
clenched teeth, as they entered the damp gloomy avenue. "Ha, Master
Fenton, I have the odds of thee! Ha, ha! Not all hell itself could
save her from me now."
At the base of a tower where a small doorway gave entrance to the
house, Juden, who was in front, to his great tribulation, saw Beatrix
Gilruth with a long pikestaff in one hand, and an iron cresset in the
other. She held it aloft at the full stretch of her meagre arm, and
fitfully the flame streamed in the night-wind, casting a bright but
uncertain glare on her pinched unearthly features, her sunken eyes,
matted hair, and tattered attire, on the mossgreen walls, the grated
windows, and striking façade of the ancient mansion, and the thick
trees that grew around it, revealing the dewy leaves and threads of
silver gossamer that spread from branch to branch--but Beatrix was
the most striking object, for the wildness of her air imparted to her
the aspect of an antique Pythoness, a sorceress, or maniac. Juden
fearfully eyed her askance.
"Gude e'en to ye, cummer," said he breathlessly.
"Evening? ye feared gowk!" retorted Beatrix. "'Tis the dead hour of
midnight, as ye may know by putting your neb oure the kirkyard dyke,
where mair may be seen than ye reckon on. Behold the light that
dances in yonder hollow."
Juden looked down the long avenue, which the dense foliage caused to
resemble a leafy tunnel, and saw far off a lambent and uncertain
light playing in the distance.
"'Tis a corpse candle!" screamed Beatrix. "It glints above the grave
of an unchristened wean. Hah, fool! frightened as ye are for it, the
day is not far off when the same deidlicht will be dancing among the
grass that covers your own."
Perspiration burst over Juden's brow, while the woman enjoying the
terror she created, uttered a wild laugh.
"My Lord--Jock--I tak ye to witness she foretells my wierd--a clear
case o' malice and sorcery as ever came before the Fifteen. But I
defy ye, Lucky Gilruth, for the barrels are tarred that shall send
thee to the fires o' eternity, ye shameless limmer." Juden trembled
between pious confidence and deadly fear--like one who in a dream
defies a fiend.
"Hark to St. Cuthbert's bell?" continued Beatrix, who appeared to
find a satisfaction in the fear and aversion she created. "Now shall
ye behold the spirits of the dead, that many a time and oft on this
returning night, I have seen rush forth from yonder woods,--Sir
Patrick of Blackadder, and his slayers, Douglas, Hume, and
Clermistonlee. Like the driven cloud, they fly without a sound along
the gloomy avenue--pursuers and pursued, their swords flashing and
their hell-forged harness glinting, as they sweep like shadows oure
the dewy grass, with the stars shining through the ribs of their
skeleton horses, till the spirit of Blackadder plunges into the loch,
as it did on his dying day--then red flash their petronels, and the
pure water sparkles around them like diamonds in the moonlight--an
eldritch yell arises from its shining bosom, and all is over!"
"What mummery is this, thou eternal babbler?" said Clermistonlee, in
a voice of suppressed passion. "Woman, Beatrix, silence, lest I
strangle thee!"
The sedan was now within the vaulted ambulatory of the mansion; and
the door was securely bolted by Juden, while his master, who had
begun to feel no little surprise and anxiety at the silence
maintained by Lilian, advanced hurriedly to the chair; but first
whispered to his old paramour:
"A word, Beatrix,--is the wainscoted room in the turret prepared for
the reception of this little one?" Beatrix nodded. "Peril of thy
head, woman, if it were not," he added scornfully, and raised the top
of the sedan, while his assistants respectfully withdrew. "Fair
Lilian," said he, commencing one of his made-up fine speeches, but
not without apparent confusion, "fair Lilian, and not less beloved
than fair, pardon this duplicity, for which the excess of my love can
be my only, my best excuse. My love--alas! my dear girl, you have
known it long, and too long have you slighted it. But on bended
knee, behold!--I beseech you to pardon me--Lilian--dearest Lilian----"
"Ha, ha! ho, ho!" laughed a deep and sonorous voice within the sedan.
"Horns of Mahoud! if this is not exquisite!" and, instead of
beholding Lilian's fair face, shaded by silken ringlets--lo! the
exasperated lover was confronted by the bushy perriwig, swart visage,
and black moustachios of Dick Douglas of Finland. "Ho, ho! your
Lordship has been prodigiously outwitted;" and the cavalier laughed
as if he would die.
"A thousand furies! draw! Finland, draw!--your life shall pay for
this!" exclaimed Clermistonlee, recoiling and laying hand on his
sword.
"As you please, Right Honourable; but I hope, most noble Lord, your
rascals mean to carry me back to the city--ha, ha!"
"Not unless it be cold and stark upon a bier. Zounds! Sir, I
believe you know I am one who will not brook being trifled with."
"Your Lordship must know me for the same," replied Finland, gravely.
"I care not a straw what view you may take of this night's adventure,
and will now, or at any time, render due satisfaction for it, with my
sword, body to body. I am generally to be found either at my
quarters in the White Horse Cellar, or in Hugh Blair's Coffeehouse."
"Or the Laird of Maxwelton's--ha!"
"Where your Lordship had better not present yourself; and so,
gadzooks! your most obedient. Harkee! Mother Gilruth, undo the
barrier; you know me, I think, old one, eh?" and he threw a few coins
in her apron, saying, "I can be as free of my flesh and gold as
either lord or loon."
Beatrix, whose grey eyes gleamed with malice and avarice, clutched
the money with one hand, and shook a poniard at the donor with the
other; while Clermistonlee, who was boiling with passion and
mortification, again approached him. Douglas started, and half
unsheathed his glittering rapier; while Juden, who considered his
Lord's affront as one offered to himself, snatched an old partisan
from the wall, and prepared to fall on.
"Hold! Juden--back!--not now--not now!" said his master, waving his
hand.
"'Tis well, my Lord," said Douglas; "delay so long as you please. We
expect to march southward shortly, and I would regret to be left
behind with a slashed skin, when Dunbarton's drums were beating the
point of war in the face of an enemy. Yes--by all the devils, I
would wish rather to fall _à la coup de mousquet_, than by the rapier
of Randal Clermont."
"Your wish may be frustrated if you speak thus insolently," replied
Clermistonlee, who admired the cavalier's bearing, though exasperated
by the trick he had played him. "But be it so, Finland. Were not
this hand fettered by a longing for revenge--a longing which beyond
the morrow I cannot control, and which compels me to retain my sword
for the heart of another enemy, God wot, I would slay you where you
stand. As a swordsman, you are aware I am unmatched in the three
Lothians."
"Pshaw!--on the ramparts of Lisle, after three passes, I disarmed
Monsieur de Martinet, of the Regiment du Roi; and he was the first
swordsman in France and Flanders. I believe we are pretty equal.
But, my Lord, he for whom you reserve your skill and fury is my
friend--my friend is my second self; and I tell thee, Randal
Clermont, Lord and Baron though ye be, that when I think of what
might have been the fate of Lilian Napier under this accursed roof,
and in the hands of thee and thy hell-doomed harridan, I am sorely
tempted to have at thy throat."
"'Sdeath! these are words rarely addressed to Clermistonlee. Begone!
sirrah, ere from high words we come to hard blows. Away! and
remember that the time is not far distant when this night's prank
shall be dearly atoned for."
"When that hour comes, Finland will never fail," replied the
cavalier, throwing his broad beaver jauntily on one side, as with one
hand on his rapier, and the other twirling his moustache, he strode
away, singing--
"She is all the world to me,
And for my blue-eyed Annie Laurie,
I would lay me down and die."