As early on the following morning as possible, Gowrie visited Sir
Henry Neville, and was received with every mark of kindness and
distinction. He propounded at once his questions regarding Ramsay and
Austin Jute, but received a reply which somewhat surprised him.
"Oh, there is no danger to your servant," said the ambassador.
"Neither Ramsay himself nor any one else in Paris, I think, would
venture to send such a message to my house for the purpose of
entrapping any one. Besides, I have the same information myself; but
yet I think I would not let the servant go."
"Will you explain why not?" said Gowrie. "I was in hopes that the fact
of Ramsay's sending this message at all, was a proof that the rash
intemperance of which you formerly spoke, proceeded merely from the
unchastised passion of youth, and that he has better qualities in his
nature than he has hitherto suffered to appear."
"I trust it is so," replied Neville; "but yet there remains a great
deal to be beaten out of him. The truth is, my dear lord," he
continued, with a laugh, "that the message first came to me, and
though, perhaps, kindly intended towards your servant, was still
somewhat insolent in its tone. He sent to say that he was recovering,
and that the man who had wounded him need fear no chastisement--that
was the word he used; and he then went on to say, that the man might
come to him in safety, when he would assure him of his pardon. We
rough islanders, my lord, are accustomed to think that no pardon is
necessary where no offence has been committed; and therefore I judge
that you had better not let your man go. It might only lead to evil
consequences; for I do not think, from Master Austin's look and
manner, that he is one to submit to haughty or injurious words without
a rejoinder."
"He certainly shall not go," answered Gowrie, "since such was the
message. However, I shall myself soon quit Paris, and therefore, Sir
Henry, if you will favour me with the letters which you have promised
me for the English court, I will deliver them with pride and pleasure,
as it is, of course, my intention to present my humble duty to her
Majesty Queen Elizabeth, as I pass through London."
"You shall have them this very evening," answered Neville; "but yet I
wish you would stay for a couple of days longer; for I know that you
are a great lover of music, and there is a very delicate concert to be
given the day after to-morrow. There are three of the most excellent
performers on the violin that ever were heard, besides some famous
singers from Italy; and they will perform several rare and beautiful
pieces by a new composer of great genius."
Lord Gowrie promised at once to stay for the high treat offered to
him; but he took his leave without informing Sir Henry Neville that he
had other objects in delaying his departure. Had the message of Ramsay
been that which he had imagined when he visited the ambassador, the
young earl would have quitted Paris on the following day; but the tone
in which he now found it was conceived, induced him to adopt another
course, and proceeding at once to his own chamber without seeing
Julia, he sat down and wrote the following note:--
"To Master Ramsay of Newburn, greeting:--
"Sir,
"His excellency Sir Henry Neville, English ambassador at this court,
has communicated to me your message to my servant, by whom you were
wounded. I rejoice to hear that you are in a way of recovery, which, I
trust, will be soon complete. It was my purpose to have quitted this
capital long ago, but in the circumstances which exist, I shall remain
here for some days longer, in order to give you an opportunity of
doing that which, doubtless, you will be naturally disposed to do. We
are all subjected to error, especially in youth; but when a man of
good breeding has committed a fault towards another, he is always
desirous of apologizing for it. I am informed, by no less than five
eye-witnesses, that while I had ridden on before my carriage, you
offered an insult to a lady under my care and escort, which was, in
fact, an insult to myself. Doubtless you are inclined to write an
apology for this conduct, as that which has passed between my servant
and yourself can be considered as no atonement to
"Your most humble servant,
"GOWRIE."
When he had read the letter over, sealed, and addressed it, the earl
dispatched it by an old and somewhat matter-of-fact servant, who had
accompanied him from Scotland to Italy. He gave no especial directions
in regard to its delivery; and the man, in the ordinary course, would
probably have left it at the lodging of his young countryman, had he
not been forced to take with him, both to show him the way, and to
interpret for him, a lacquais de place, who had been engaged by the
earl since his arrival in Paris. The lacquais de place of those days
was a very different animal from that which bears the title at
present, when every drunken courier, who has been discharged for bad
behaviour, and whose character is too well established to obtain
permanent employment, places himself at the door of a hotel, and calls
himself a lacquais de place. The one who had been hired by Lord Gowrie
was a brisk, impudent, meddling fellow, full of the most consummate
French vanity, and determined to have his say upon every occasion. He
must needs see the letter which was to be delivered; and when he got
to the door, he did not fail to impress upon the good old man, that it
was necessary he should deliver the letter to the Seigneur de Ramsay
in person, and obtain an answer of some kind, to which the Scotchman,
always well inclined to meet a countryman in foreign lands, did not in
the slightest degree object. Some difficulty, indeed, was made in
admitting him; but when he announced that he came with a letter from
the Earl of Gowrie, the difficulty ceased, and he was ushered into the
room of the wounded man.
Ramsay of Newburn was lying on his bed dressed in a warm robe de
chambre, as if he had been only allowed to get up during the morning.
He was a powerful and a handsome man of one or two-and-twenty years of
age, with good features, but by no means a prepossessing expression.
His face was very pale from loss of blood, and from the illness
consequent upon his wound; but his eye was bright and hawk-like, and,
with his black hair, neglected since his wound, and falling in ragged
masses over his forehead, it gave a wild, fierce look to his worn
countenance. As soon as the servant entered, he motioned his own
attendant to withdraw, and said in a low, hollow tone, "They tell me
you are the Earl of Gowrie's servant. You are not the man who wounded
me?"
"No, sir," replied the other. "He is still at the embassy."
"You have got a letter for me, have you not?" asked Ramsay, keeping
his eyes fixed upon his face.
The man presented it; but Ramsay went on without opening the letter,
saying, "You are a countryman of mine, by your tongue."
"Yes, sir," answered the servant. "I come from fair Perth itself."
"It is a beautiful town," said Ramsay. "I suppose you have been long
in the service of the earl?"
"I was in the service of his brother before him," replied the man.
"Well, I am very sorry there should have been any disagreement between
the earl and myself," continued Ramsay. "Pray, who is the lady who is
with his lordship?"
"I cannot justly say, sir," answered the man; and then, seeing a
curious sort of light coming into the other's eyes, he added, "She's a
far-away cousin of my lord's. The Lady Julia Douglas, they call her.
My lord met with her in Italy, where some of her relations dying, he
agreed to see her safe back to Scotland."
"Then she is not an Italian, as some of my people told me?" rejoined
the young man.
"Oh, no," cried the servant. "She speaks fine English; and I've never
heard her speak anything else, except to the servants at times."
Ramsay mused, and then inquired if the earl was going direct back to
Scotland.
"He'll stay a while in London town, they say," rejoined the man; "but
I can tell nothing for certain. My lord does not talk much of what he
intends to do."
"Will you draw back that curtain from the window?" said the wounded
man, "that I may see what the earl writes;" and his request being
complied with, he opened the letter and read. The first words seemed
to please him well, for a smile came upon his lip. It had somewhat a
sarcastic turn, indeed; but the usual expression of his face was
sneering. The next words, however, clouded his brow; and as he read
on, it became as black as a thunder cloud. When he had done, he
remained with his teeth hard set, and the letter still in his hand,
apparently musing over the contents, while quick, almost spasmodic,
changes of expression came over his face, and from time to time he
muttered something to himself, the sense of which the servant could
not catch. Gradually, however, the irritable movements seemed to
cease; and he looked at the letter again, not reading it regularly,
but glancing his eye from one part to the other, in a desultory
manner. His brow then became smoother, though it cost him an apparent
effort to banish the frown, and the sneer which hung about his upper
lip he could not banish.
"If your lord takes his departure so soon," he said, "I fear I cannot
have the honour of paying my respects to him. Is it quite certain that
he goes in three days?"
"I have not heard, sir," replied the man, "and so I can't say; but if
he has told you so in the letter, depend upon it he'll do it: for he
is not one to change his mind lightly."
"Well, then," said Ramsay, with a somewhat peculiar emphasis, "I must
wait another opportunity."
"I will tell him so, sir," said the old servant; but the young man
exclaimed, "No, no, you need not tell him exactly that; merely say I
regret my inability to wait upon him, and that I am unable to write.
You may say, moreover----"
He did not finish the sentence, but fell into thought again, tossing
himself uneasily on his bed, till the servant, thinking that he had
done, took a step towards the door, saying, "Well, I'll tell him, sir,
just what you say."
"Stay, stay," said Ramsay; "I have something to add. You may say to
the noble lord, for me, that I am sorry I offended the lady, but that
I did not at all intend to insult her. The curtain was drawn rudely in
my face by a man in the inside of the carriage; and I pulled it back
as a reproof to him, without thinking of her at all."
"Well, sir, you know best," replied the man, who, though not very
brilliant, did not think that this account accorded well with what he
himself had seen. "I'll tell the earl just what you say."
"Pray do," said Ramsay; "and say, moreover, that I shall soon have the
honour of seeing his lordship in Scotland, as I intend to return
thither as soon as I can travel. Your master is well acquainted, I
think, with my good cousin, Sir George."
"Oh, ay," answered the man. "I have seen Ramsay of Dalhousie many a
time, both at Perth and at Dirleton, and young Jock Ramsay, too, his
brother, who used to come to play with Mr. Alexander. They used to
quarrel and fight very often; but that is the way with boys."
"They quarrelled, did they?" said Ramsay of Newburn, with a smile.
"Doubtless they'll be better friends as men. And now, tell my man to
give you a draught of strong waters, but don't let it make you forget
to deliver my message to your lord."
"No, no, sir; no fear of that," answered the man, and withdrew.
When he was gone, Ramsay writhed upon his bed, as if in pain, and he
murmured to himself, "Ay, that bitter cup is quaffed; but I'll make
those who have forced it upon me taste a bitterer. But how--but how? I
shall never have strength to wield a sword like a man again. The
villain has crippled me for life. I can fire a shot, though; and, my
good lord of Gowrie, I will not forget you."
Then he fell into thought again, and meditated in silence for nearly
half an hour, while various changes of expression came over his
countenance, all dark, but of different shades. At length some thought
seemed to please him, for he laughed aloud. "Ay," he said, "that were
better. Then, however matters go, I am the gainer. He has made me
truckle to his leman. I'll try if I cannot make him bend his haughty
head before those who once already have trampled on the necks of
Ruthvens. Let him beware both of words and actions, for he shall be
sharply looked to. The proud peat! Let him stay in London with the
crooked old Englishwoman. I'll be in Scotland before him, and he shall
find her protection blast rather than save him. If I know my cousin
John aright, I can so work these ends together as to make this earl
regret having done shame to a Ramsay. What I have not strength to do
boldly, I will try to do shrewdly, and there will be some pleasure in
seeing him help to work out my objects against himself. There is
Stuart, too; if we can once get him mixed in the affair, the king will
not be long out of it. Then, Gowrie, look to yourself, for James never
forgives those whom he fears."
He continued thus muttering to himself for some time longer; but what
has been already detailed will be sufficient to show that Ramsay
entertained that sweet and gentlemanlike passion of revenge, which was
at the time exceedingly dear and pleasant to most of his countrymen.
It is so, indeed, with all nations in a semi-barbarous state, and in
such a state was Scotland undoubtedly at that time. Torn by factions,
frequently a prey to civil strife, when not actually a prey to
anarchy, ruled by the strongest and the readiest hand which could
clutch and hold the reins of government, she had long seen her
children rising to power and wealth on each other's heads, and the
pathway to honours marked out by a stream of blood. Ambition went hand
in hand with revenge; and the terrible rule seemed fully established
in the land, "to forget a benefit as soon as possible, but never to
forgive an injury."