He’s married a may, and he’s fessen her hame;
But she was a grim and a laidly dame.
When into the castle court drave she,
The seven bairns stood wi’ the tear in their e’e.
Nor ale nor mead to the bairnies she gave,
“But hunger and hate frae me ye’s have.”
--_Danish Ballad._
Twenty years elapsed after the midnight when the infant boy was left
at Hawksglen Castle by the gentle Johnston, whom we dub with that
epithet in accordance with the Border usage of characterizing the
principal families, or clans, as the _haughty_ Homes, the _bauld_
Rutherfords, the _sturdy_ Armstrongs, the _gentle_ Johnstons, _et sic
de cæteris_. But “gentle,” as applied to the Johnstons, was an
ironical misnomer, they being a peculiarly rude and turbulent race,
living in “sturt and strife.” A story is told that a Baron, who was at
deadly feud with them, having captured several, ordered their heads to
be cut off and flung into a sack, which he gave to one of his
retainers to carry home; and the man, when he got the grisly burden
upon his back, gave it a good shake, saying jocosely, “Gree amang
yoursells, Johnstons!” Our Johnston seemed a full-fledged scion of
this law-defying race.
Let us now fill up the gap of those twenty years with a brief recital
of events which concern our tale.
Sir James Elliot of Hawksglen was the lineal descendant of a famous
Border house; and a worthier representative of a baronial stock it
would have been rather difficult to single out among his compeers.
High renown had been earned by his ancestors in the feuds and wars of
the marches. His father received his death-wound in resisting a
Southron inroad some few years anterior to the period when our legend
opens. Sir James, an only son and only child, was thus left master of
wide domains when he had just passed his majority. His mother was an
amiable lady; but after the loss of her husband she never regained
that happy buoyancy of mind which had distinguished her during her
wedded life. To all her dependants she was a kind and indulgent
mistress, ever ready to forgive shortcomings, and to relieve the wants
of humble vassals when overtaken by pinching poverty. Seeing that her
son inherited the martial spirit of his sire, it became her aim to
induce him to bury animosities and feuds, and to cultivate, as much as
he could, and as far as the circumstances of the times allowed, the
arts of peace. She meant well. But Sir James would say to himself, as
he paced through his hall, and gazed on several grim portraits of the
Elliots of Hawksglen with which it was decorated:--
“My mother’s mild precepts would avail in some other age and land; but
they are vain in this Border country, where every man rights himself
by his own hand, and wins honour and esteem by martial valour. When
every man draws his blade in his own quarrel, dare I keep mine
unsheathed without incurring disdain and disgrace? Nay--in these times
I must uphold the dignity of our house with the steel in my grasp and
the corselet on my breast.”
Sir James was ardent and fiery by nature, yet evincing generous and
chivalrous impulses. In stature he rather exceeded the middle height,
and had a manly and well-formed figure. His face was oval and
swarthy-complexioned, its expression being mild and thoughtful in
repose, but under excitement becoming instinct with strong animation.
As yet in early manhood, he was unmarried, and so far as appeared had
never been wounded by a shaft from Cupid’s bow.
The midnight adventure at the gate exceedingly amazed the knight and
his mother, and probably induced a certain suspicion in the latter’s
mind; but they resolved to shelter and provide for the child until its
parents should be discovered. Every means were used to penetrate the
mystery; but, owing to troubles which broke out along the Border, all
inquiries proved fruitless, and even rumour was dumb. The child’s
habiliments and the ornament about its neck betokened that its lineage
was above the common. Thus weeks and months sped away, and the
foundling was treated with as much care and kindness as could have
been bestowed upon a son of the family; which, indeed, the retainers
could not help suspecting that he was, and therefore, they gradually
refrained from rehearsing to others the story of his exposure at the
gate.
The boy was healthy, with pleasing features, a soft skin, and a clear
complexion. He soon became familiar with his new guardians; and the
lady forgot her sorrows in ministering to his wants, and fondling him
upon her knee. A priest from a neighbouring chapel admitted the
foundling within the pale of the visible Church by the Sacrament of
Baptism, and christened him by the name of Eustace, in memory of the
lady’s only brother who had died in infancy.
When Eustace had seen about a couple of years under the hospitable
roof of Hawksglen, the lady was seized with a malignant distemper,
which was destined to close her days. Despite the skill of physicians,
the rapid progress of the disease could not be arrested: the lamp of
hope burned dim: and now--
The mildest herald by our fate allotted
Beckoned, and with inverted torch did stand
To lead her with a gentle hand
Into the land of the great Departed,
Into the Silent Land.
As the lady was sinking, fully resigned to depart, she desired that
the orphan boy should be brought into her presence, which was
immediately done. Long ere this time she had become entirely persuaded
in her own mind that he was really and truly of stranger blood.
Raising herself with a last effort, she took him in her arms, and
kissed his lips fervently; then turned to Sir James and said:--
“Son, I have one request to make ere I yield my fleeting breath. I
have endeavoured to fill the place of the unknown mother of this fair
child. In my last hour I leave him to your protection. I beseech you
to befriend him until, by the workings of Providence, he be restored
to the arms of his parents, or of his kinsfolk, which I am persuaded
will some day take place. But until that day never let him feel that,
under your roof, he is a stranger. In time you will lead a bride to
the altar, and bring her to Hawksglen: children of your own will grow
up around your knees: but, O, my son, never neglect this boy, never
count him as an alien, while he abides under your roof. As I have
cherished him till now, do thou cherish him still. This is my dying
request, which I trust will be fulfilled.”
The knight gave his solemn promise, laying his hand on the crucifix
which the attendant priest was holding up before the dying lady. The
child instinctively clasped her neck, and whimpered some broken words.
The parting moment drew nigh. The last offices of the Church were
performed; and soon the lady, in the serenity of hallowed hope, passed
through the dark tide of Jordan to the better land.
The knight of Hawksglen was overborne by his bereavement. Shutting
himself within his castle, for a space, he seemed to have forsaken
the changeful world beyond its walls. Time sped its course; and at
length the torch of Love slowly scattered the clouds of unavailing
sorrow. Not long after Sir James left his seclusion he was smitten by
the charms of Anne Rutherford, the only daughter of a Border baron.
Younger than himself, she possessed the witcheries of an exquisite
form and a lovely face. It was whispered, _sub rosa_, that with her
personal graces was united a disposition proud, self-willed, and
shrewish. But what daughter of Eve, however fair, could claim
perfection? Elliot, becoming her lover, was naturally incredulous of
the faults or failings with which rumour charged her. To his glamoured
eyes she appeared as a blooming rose without a thorn. She favoured his
impassioned addresses: she accepted his hand: and, about eighteen
months after his mother’s demise, Sir James brought a fair young bride
to grace his hall.
For a season wedded life went pleasantly at Hawksglen--the cup of the
happy pair, who seemed absorbed in a dream of love, betraying no
bitter drop. But the time came when the dream was broken. The mask
which the lady had worn was withdrawn, and her husband was
undeceived. She now evinced an unequal temper, a degree of whim and
caprice, and an obstinate desire to subject everything to her will,
which eventually dissipated much of Elliot’s matrimonial happiness. In
vain did he strive to wean her back to her former self: and he mingled
with the troubles of the Border to counteract the feeling of
disappointment.
An evil hour for the foundling boy was that in which Dame Anne came to
Hawksglen. She was duly informed of the mysterious manner in which the
child had been left, and of the injunctions laid upon her husband by
his dying mother, which he felt it his bounden duty to respect. The
lady affected to acquiesce in his sentiments; but at heart she thought
otherwise. Secretly jealous that the boy might prejudice her own
children in their father’s estimation, and perhaps ultimately receive
some portion of the Hawksglen lands (suspicions which cannot be
considered as wholly unnatural), she soon endeavoured, by various
little arts, to diminish her husband’s regard for the foundling. Her
enmity strengthened when, in about a year after marriage, she gave
birth to twin daughters. After that event, little Eustace became more
and more the object of the mother’s dislike, and Elliot, anxious to
soothe her feelings, relaxed in his attentions to the boy.
Eustace grew up a handsome youth, of a high spirit but an urbane and
generous nature, which endeared him to all the dependants of
Hawksglen. Lady Elliot, seeing in him more and more the likely cause
of future trouble and danger, never ceased plying her insidious arts
against him. Every trivial mistake or fault of his she reported to her
husband in such exaggerated shape as was possible: and it seemed her
aim to lower Eustace from the position of an accepted member of the
family to that of a mere dependant, who had no claim to higher
consideration. As she had no more children, and the want of a son
embittering her jealousy of the foundling, she frequently told her
husband that unless he secretly wished to adopt Eustace altogether, to
the injury of his daughters’ interests, it was doing wrong to maintain
him in a station to which he had not the shadow of right.
The lady’s twin daughters, Eleanor and Catherine, were beautiful
girls, lauded by all who saw them. Eleanor, however, surpassed her
sister in charms of form and feature, and had a gentle, guileless,
trustful heart; while Catherine, fickle, passionate, and overbearing,
seemed to be endowed with all the worst qualities of her mother. It
was not remarkable that a mutual sympathy and attachment arose betwixt
Eleanor and Eustace, or that antipathy towards him gradually gained
possession of Catherine’s mind, and was not concealed. Up to a certain
period, Eustace was led to consider himself an orphan relative of the
family: the sisters were allowed to entertain the same idea; but it
was never mentioned what was the relationship, or whence he came. The
retainers were constrained to avoid alluding in any way to the fact of
his having been left at the gate: and, indeed, they generally formed
the belief that he was Elliot’s own son, and would some day be openly
acknowledged. But Eustace, as he grew, had anxious musings concerning
his parentage and the strange reticence manifested by one and all
around him on the subject. He could not help fancying gloomily that
some dark secret was associated with his birth, and would in the end
be disclosed to his dismay.
Eustace, brought up amid the warlike turmoils of the Border, was
trained, like other youths, to the use of arms, and occasionally bore
his part in the field as Elliot’s squire. In one desperate fray his
daring saved the knight from slaughter, a gallant achievement which
gained him the latter’s highest regard. This was as gall and wormwood
to Dame Anne. In a fit of ungovernable spleen, she told her daughters
that the young hero was nothing better than a nameless foundling who
had been thrown upon the charity of Hawksglen. She entrusted them with
this startling knowledge as with a profound secret, which they were
not to disclose to any without her express permission, for fear of
drawing down upon her and them their father’s displeasure. Probably
the lady hoped that the revelation to her daughters would destroy the
attachment betwixt Eleanor and Eustace, which, if allowed to exist,
might result in love. Inconsiderate woman! she had no idea that she
was taking the very step to thwart her own purpose. Catherine acted
upon her mother’s counsels, in holding Eustace in undisguised
indifference. But with Eleanor it was otherwise. To tell her that
Eustace was the son of misfortune, cast upon strangers in his helpless
infancy, was but to give new life to the affection for him which had
grown in her mind.
Until about the age of one-and-twenty Eustace continued ignorant of
the all-important secret, although distressing suspicions had long
haunted his thoughts. But as intimacy betwixt him and Eleanor seemed,
in the watchful lady’s eyes, to increase, she dared again to break her
husband’s injunction. One day, when Sir James was absent from
Hawksglen attending a Warden’s Court, Eustace chanced to give the lady
some offence, and appeared to treat her rebuke lightly, in revenge for
which she told him the secret, adding that his unknown parentage was
doubtless base, and that his position in the Castle should be that of
the humblest menial. He had long anticipated something like this: yet
the final disclosure came upon him like a thunderbolt, and he felt
himself humiliated in the dust. He saw that the current of his life
must now inevitably turn into another channel, and that his days at
Hawksglen were thenceforth numbered. The world was wide, and he would
seek his fortune.