FEET OF WOOL.
The next day, Miss Horn, punctual as Fate, presented herself at Lossie
House, and was shown at once into the marquis's study, as it was
called. When his lordship entered she took the lead the moment the
door was shut. "By this time, my lord, ye'll doobtless hae made up yer
min' to du what's richt?" she said.
"That's what I have always wanted to do," returned the marquis.
"Hm!" remarked Miss Horn as plainly as inarticulately.
"In this affair," he supplemented; adding, "It's not always so easy to
tell what _is_ right."
"It's no aye easy to luik for 't wi' baith yer een," said Miss Horn.
"This woman Catanach--we must get her to give credible testimony.
Whatever the fact may be, we must have strong evidence. And there
comes the difficulty, that she has already made an altogether
different statement."
"It gangs for naething, my lord. It was never made afore a justice o'
the peace."
"I wish you would go to her and see how she is inclined."
"Me gang to Bawbie Catanach!" exclaimed Miss Horn. "I wad as sune gang
an' kittle Sawtan's nose wi' the p'int o' 's tail. Na, na, my lord.
Gien onybody gang till her wi' my wull, it s' be a limb o' the law. I
s' hae nae cognostin' wi' her."
"You would have no objection, however; to my seeing her, I
presume--just to let her know that we have an inkling of the truth?"
said the marquis.
Now, all this was the merest talk, for of course Miss Horn could not
long remain in ignorance of the declaration her fury had, the night
previous, forced from Mrs. Catanach; but he must, he thought, put
her off and keep her quiet, if possible, until he had come to an
understanding with Malcolm, after which he would no doubt have his
trouble with her.
"Ye can du as yer lordship likes," answered Miss Horn, "but I wadna
hae 't said o' me 'at I had ony dealin's wi' her. Wha kens but she
micht say ye tried to bribe her? There's naething she wad bogle at
gien she thoucht it worth her while. No 'at I 'm feart at her. Lat her
lee! I'm no sae blate but--Only dinna lippen till a word she says, my
lord."
The marquis hesitated. "I wonder whether the real source of my
perplexity occurs to you, Miss Horn," he said at length. "You know I
have a daughter?"
"Weel eneuch that, my lord."
"By my second marriage."
"Nae merridge ava', my lord."
"True, if I confess to the first."
"A' the same whether or no, my lord."
"Then you see," the marquis went on, refusing offence, "what the
admission of your story would make of my daughter?"
"That's plain eneuch, my lord."
"Now, if I have read Malcolm right he has too much regard for
his--mistress--to put her in such a false position."
"That is, my lord, ye wad hae yer lawfu' son beir the lawless name."
"No, no: it need never come out what he is. I will provide for him--as
a gentleman, of course."
"It canna be, my lord. Ye can du naething for him, wi' that face o'
his, but oot comes the trouth as to the father o' 'im; an' it wadna be
lang afore the tale was ekit oot wi' the name o' his mither--Mistress
Catanach wad see to that, gien 'twas only to spite me--an' I wunna hae
my Grizel ca'd what she is not for ony lord's dauchter i' the three
kynriks."
"What _does_ it matter, now she's dead and gone?" said the marquis,
false to the dead in his love for the living.
"Deid an' gane, my lord? What ca' ye deid an' gane? Maybe the great
anes o' the yerth get sic a forlethie (_surfeit_) o' grand'ur 'at
they're for nae mair, an' wad perish like the brute beast. For
onything I ken, they may hae their wuss, but for mysel', I wad warstle
to haud my sowl waukin' (_awake_) i' the verra article o' deith, for
the bare chance o' seein' my bonny Grizel again. It's a mercy I hae
nae feelin's," she added, arresting her handkerchief on its way to her
eyes, and refusing to acknowledge the single tear that ran down her
cheek.
Plainly she was not like any of the women whose characters the marquis
had accepted as typical of womankind.
"Then you won't leave the matter to her husband and son?" he said
reproachfully.
"I tellt ye, my lord, I wad du naething but what I saw to be richt.
Lat this affair oot o' my han's I daurna. That laad ye micht work
to onything 'at made agane himsel'. He's jist like his puir mither
there."
"If Miss Campbell _was_ his mother," said the marquis.
"Miss Cam'ell!" cried Miss Horn. "I'll thank yer lordship to ca' her
by her ain, an' that's Lady Lossie."
What of the something ruinous heart of the marquis was habitable was
occupied by his daughter, and had no accommodation at present either
for his dead wife or his living son. Once more he sat thinking in
silence for a while. "I'll make Malcolm a post-captain in the navy and
give you a thousand pounds," he said at length, hardly knowing that he
spoke.
Miss Horn rose to her full height and stood like an angel of rebuke
before him. Not a word did she speak, only looked at him for a moment
and turned to leave the room. The marquis saw his danger, and striding
to the door stood with his back against it.
"Think ye to scare _me_, my lord?" she asked with a scornful laugh.
"Gang an' scare the stane lion-beast at yer ha'-door. Haud oot o' the
gait an' lat me gang."
"Not until I know what you are going to do," said the marquis very
seriously.
"I hae naething mair to transac' wi' yer lordship. You an' me 's
strangers, my lord."
"Tut! tut! I was but trying you."
"An' gien I had ta'en the disgrace ye offert me, ye wad hae drawn
back?"
"No, certainly."
"Ye wasna tryin' me, then: ye was duin' yer best to corrup' me."
"I'm no splitter of hairs."
"My lord, it's nane but the corrup'ible wad seek to corrup'."
The marquis gnawed a nail or two in silence. Miss Horn dragged an
easy-chair within a couple of yards of him.
"We'll see wha tires o' this ghem first, my lord," she said as she
sank into its hospitable embrace.
The marquis turned to lock the door, but there was no key in it.
Neither was there any chair within reach, and he was not fond of
standing. Clearly, his enemy had the advantage.
"Hae ye h'ard o' puir Sandy Graham--hoo they're misguidin' him, my
lord?" she asked with composure.
The marquis was first astounded, and then tickled by her assurance.
"No," he answered.
"They hae turnt him oot o' hoose an' ha'--schuil, at least, an' hame,"
she rejoined. "I may say they hae turnt him oot o' Scotlan', for what
presbytery wad hae him efter he had been fun' guilty o' no thinkin'
like ither fowk? Ye maun stan' his guid freen', my lord."
"He shall be Malcolm's tutor," answered the marquis, not to be outdone
in coolness, "and go with him to Edinburgh--or Oxford, if he prefers
it."
"Never yerl o' Colonsay had a better," said Miss Horn.
"Softly, softly, ma'am," returned the marquis. "I did not say he
should go in that style."
"He s' gang as my lord o' Colonsay or he s' no gang at _your_ expense,
my lord," said his antagonist.
"Really, ma'am, one would think you were my grandmother, to hear you
order my affairs for me."
"I wuss I war, my lord: I sud gar ye hear risson upo' baith sides o'
yer heid, I s' warran'."
The marquis laughed. "Well, I can't stand here all day," he said,
impatiently swinging one leg.
"I'm weel awaur o' that, my lord," answered Miss Horn, rearranging her
scanty skirt.
"How long are you going to keep me, then?"
"I wadna hae ye bide a meenute langer nor's agreeable to yersel'. But
_I_'m in nae hurry sae lang's ye're afore me. Ye're nae ill to luik
at, though ye maun hae been bonnier the day ye wan the hert o' my
Grizel."
The marquis uttered an oath and left the door. Miss Horn sprang to it,
but there was the marquis again. "Miss Horn," he said, "I beg you will
give me another day to think of this."
"Whaur's the use? A' the thinkin' i' the warl' canna alter a single
fac'. Ye maun do richt by my laddie o' yer ainsel', or I maun gar ye."
"You would find a lawsuit heavy, Miss Horn."
"An' ye wad fin' the scandal o' 't ill to bide, my lord. It wad come
sair upo' Miss--I kenna what name she has a richt till, my lord."
The marquis uttered a frightful imprecation, left the door, and,
sitting down, hid his face in his hands.
Miss Horn rose, but instead of securing her retreat, approached him
gently and stood by his side. "My lord," she said, "I canna thole to
see a man in tribble. Women's born till 't, an' they tak it an' are
thankfu'; but a man never gies in till 't, an' sae it comes harder
upo' him nor upo' them. Hear me, my lord: gien there be a man upo'
this earth wha wad shield a woman, that man's Ma'colm Colonsay."
"If only she weren't his sister!" murmured the marquis.
"An' jist bethink ye, my lord: wad it be onything less nor an
imposition to lat a man merry her ohn tellt him what she was?"
"You insolent old woman!" cried the marquis, losing his temper,
discretion and manners all together. "Go and do your worst, and be
damned to you!"
So saying, he left the room, and Miss Horn found her way out of the
house in a temper quite as fierce as his--in character, however,
entirely different, inasmuch as it was righteous.
At that very moment Malcolm was in search of his master, and seeing
the back of him disappear in the library, to which he had gone in a
half-blind rage, he followed him. "My lord!" he said.
"What do you want?" returned his master in a rage. For some time he
had been hauling on the curb-rein, which had fretted his temper the
more, and when he let go the devil ran away with him.
"I thoucht yer lordship wad like to see an auld stair I cam upo' the
ither day, 'at gangs frae the wizard's chaumer--"
"Go to hell with your damned tomfoolery!" said the marquis. "If ever
you mention that cursed hole again I'll kick you out of the house."
Malcolm's eyes flashed and a fierce answer rose to his lips, but he
had seen that his master was in trouble, and sympathy supplanted rage.
He turned and left the room in silence.
Lord Lossie paced up and down the library for a whole hour--a
long time for him to be in one mood. The mood changed color pretty
frequently during the hour, however, and by degrees his wrath
assuaged. But at the end of it he knew no more what he was going to do
than when he left Miss Horn in the study. Then came the gnawing of his
usual ennui and restlessness: he must find something to do.
The thing he always thought of first was a ride, but the only animal
of horse-kind about the place which he liked was the bay mare, and her
he had lamed. He would go and see what the rascal had come bothering
about--alone, though, for he could not endure the sight of the
fisher-fellow, damn him!
In a few minutes he stood in the wizard's chamber, and glanced around
it with a feeling of discomfort rather than sorrow--of annoyance at
the trouble of which it had been for him both fountain and storehouse,
rather than regret for the agony and contempt which his selfishness
had brought upon the woman he loved: then spying the door in the
farthest corner, he made for it, and in a moment more, his curiosity
now thoroughly roused, was slowly gyrating down the steps of the old
screw-stair.
But Malcolm had gone to his own room, and, hearing some one in the
next, half suspected who it was, and went in. Seeing the closet-door
open, he hurried to the stair, and shouted, "My lord! my lord! or
whaever ye are! tak care hoo ye gang or ye'll get a terrible fa'."
Down a single yard the stair was quite dark, and he dared not follow
fast for fear of himself falling and occasioning the accident he
feared. As he descended he kept repeating his warnings, but either his
master did not hear or heeded too little, for presently Malcolm heard
a rush, a dull fall and a groan. Hurrying as fast as he dared with
the risk of falling upon him, he found the marquis lying amongst the
stones in the ground entrance, apparently unable to move, and white
with pain. Presently, however, he got up, swore a good deal and limped
swearing into the house.
The doctor, who was sent for instantly, pronounced the knee-cap
injured, and applied leeches. Inflammation set in, and another doctor
and surgeon were sent for from Aberdeen. They came, applied poultices,
and again leeches, and enjoined the strictest repose. The pain was
severe, but to one of the marquis's temperament the enforced quiet was
worse.