The party at Tinto was increased by Dr Stirling and his wife, which made
six, instead of four as the master of the house had intended. His
meaning, so far as it was a meaning at all and not a mere impulse, was
to get John Erskine by himself, and with skilful art to worm himself
into the confidence of that open-hearted young man. Torrance had a great
opinion of his own skill in this way. He thought he could find out from
any man the inmost thoughts of his mind; and John seemed an easy victim,
a young fellow without suspicion, who might without difficulty be led
into betraying himself. Torrance had been overawed by the presence of
Edith, and forced into conviction when his wife appealed to her sister
on the subject of John; but he was without any confidence in the truth
of others, and after a time he began to persuade himself that Lady Car's
denial was not final, and that probably he should find out from John
himself something that would modify her tale. When he heard that his
wife had added to the party, he was furious. "I never said I wanted more
people asked," he said. "If I had wanted people asked, I should have let
you know. What do I want with a country parson, or minister, or whatever
you call him? When I'm ill you can send for the minister. I've got
nothing to say to him at present. It is for yourself, of course, you
want him. When there's nobody better, he does to try your arts on, Lady
Car."
"Yes," said Lady Car, with a faint smile, "I allow that I like to talk
to him--for lack of a better, as you say." Sometimes she had spirit
enough to be what he called aggravating, and Torrance grew red with a
sense of scorn implied. He was not stupid enough, seeing that he was so
little clever. He knew so much as to be constantly conscious that he was
below the mark.
"Confound it!" he said, "if you were to talk to your husband, it would
show more sense; but of course that would not answer your purpose." Why
it would not answer her purpose he had not any idea; but it is not
always necessary, especially in controversy, to know what you yourself
mean, and Carry did not inquire. Sometimes she was aggravating, but
sometimes she showed the better part of valour, and held her peace. That
was always the wise way. And accordingly there were six people who sat
down to the banquet at Tinto. It was truly a banquet though the party
was so small. The table was covered with plate, huge silver epergnes,
and loads of old-fashioned metal,--not old-fashioned, it must be
recollected, in the right way, but in the wrong way--monstrosities of
the age of William IV. or of the last George. Lady Caroline's taste had
been quite inoperative so far as these ornaments were concerned. Her
husband knew that she made light of them, and this usually influenced
him in the long-run. But he knew also what they had cost, and would not
yield a hair's-breadth. The table groaned under them as on the greatest
feast-days; and Mrs Stirling, if nobody else, was always deeply
impressed. "I tell the Doctor it's as good as reading a book upon the
East to see that grand camel and the silver palm-trees," this excellent
lady said. She thought it became a minster's wife to show a special
interest in the East.
"Well, it's not often they're seen in the east--of Scotland, Mrs
Stirling," said Tinto, with his large laugh. He had made the joke
before.
"Oh fie, Mr Torrance! ye must not be profane," Mrs Stirling said: and
they both laughed with a certain zest. Very few of Lady Car's guests
admired the palm-trees; but Mrs Stirling, by a blessed dispensation of
Providence, was always capable of this effort. "I hear they are not much
in the way of art," Torrance said--"people are ill to please nowadays;
but they're pure metal, and if they were only valued at so much an
ounce----"
"You may well say they're ill to please. Bless me, Mr Torrance! one of
them would be a fortune--just a fortune at that rate. When my little
Jeanie is of an age to be married you must lock up these fine things, or
there's no saying what I might be tempted to; but you never would miss
one when there's so many," Mrs Stirling said. It was a dispensation of
Providence. The Doctor himself devoutly wished he had his wife's faculty
of admiration, when, after keeping her host in good humour all the
evening, she withdrew with Lady Car, giving him a warning glance. All
three of the ladies addressed warning glances to the gentlemen left
behind. Even Nora, who had not spoken three words to John, and had, as
she said almost spitefully to herself, nothing whatever to do with him,
could not help warning him with her eyes to keep the peace.
Now this was the time which Torrance had looked forward to, when he
should cross-examine the new-comer, and get to the rights of the story
respecting John's previous acquaintance with his wife. He was balked and
he was angry, and all at once it became apparent to him that this was
Lady Car's design, and that she had done it to screen herself. "Doctor,
you like a good glass of wine," he said; "all parsons do, whatever be
the cut of the cloth. Here's some stuff that will soon lay you under the
table--unless you're seasoned like Erskine here, and me."
"I must take care, then, to give that stuff a wide berth," the Doctor
said gravely, yet with a smile.
"Ay, ay, but you must drink fair. We'll be having you take shelter with
the ladies. I don't mean to let Erskine off so easy. This is his first
dinner in my house. It ought to have been a state dinner, you know--all
the big-wigs in the county; but Erskine and Lady Car are old friends. I
think you knew the family intimately at--where was the place?"
"I met Miss Lindores, as she was then, in Switzerland," said John,
curtly. "It was to you that I was to apply, Dr Stirling, for particulars
about the asylum Lord Lindores is so much interested in."
"And a most important work," said Dr Stirling. "It is a strange thing to
think of in a country so well gifted as this by Providence, and with so
much intelligence, what a balance we have on the other side! You'll have
noticed almost every village has a 'natural' as the people call them,--a
half-witted innocent creature like Davie Gellatley in 'Waverley.'"
"What did you say was the name of the place?" said Torrance. "I'm bent
on making notes of all the places Lady Car's been in. She's a poet, you
know. Some time or other they will be wanted for her biography, don't
you see?"
"I have observed," said John, answering Torrance only with a little
bow--"I have noticed already one or two. Could nothing be done for
them?"
"But you don't answer me," said Torrance, "and when I tell you my
motive! That's my father-in-law's last fad. What is he so anxious about
the daft folk for, Dr Stirling? Is it a fellow-feeling?" He stopped to
laugh, making the table ring. "He was at me for my support, and to write
to the convener. Not I! I told him they had done well enough up to my
time, and they would do well enough after my time. What are we to put
ourselves about for? can you tell me that?"
"It is a disgrace to the county," said Dr Stirling. "No wonder the Earl
was horrified, that has seen things managed so differently. Mr Erskine,
if you will come and see me, I will tell you all about it. Sir John
stands out, just because the idea is new to him, not from any real
objection--for he's a good man and a charitable man at heart."
"You don't wonder at me, Doctor," said Torrance. "Do you think I'm not a
good man or a charitable? I'm standing out too. I'm saying, what should
we put ourselves about for? It's not us that makes them daft. And what's
done for the county up to our time may do now. Little Tam, he can see
to that: let him have the paying of it; it is not an amusement I'm fond
of----"
"And yet, Mr Torrance," said the Doctor,--"and yet--you'll excuse
me--here's what would almost build the place----"
This was an exaggeration. It was founded upon his wife's _naïve_
admiration of the Tinto plate; but it did not displease the proud owner
of all those pounds of silver. He laughed.
"You may take your word, it will never build the place, nor any such
place," he said. "No, Doctor, that's not my line--nor the Earl's either,
trust me. If you think he would strip his table or empty his purse for
all the idiots in Scotland, you're mistaken. You think it's all
benevolence and public spirit. Not a bit! He means to run Rintoul for
the county, and it's popularity he's wanting. There's always wheels
within wheels. My father-in-law thinks he's a very clever man,--and so
he is, I suppose. They're a clever family; but I can see through them,
though they don't think much of me."
Torrance had already consumed a good deal of wine. He had been crossed
in his purpose, and his temper roused. His dark face was flushed, and
his light eyes staring. Both his companions were men entirely out of
sympathy with him, who were there because they could not help it, and
who listened rather with angry shame that they should be parties to such
discourse, than with any amiable desire to cover his shortcomings. They
did not look at each other, but a slight uneasy movement on the part of
both was as good as a mutual confidence, and both began to speak at
once, with an anxious attempt to put an end to these unseemly
revelations.
"What fine weather we've been having for the crops!" said Dr Stirling.
And, "I wish you'd tell me what flies you use about here. I have had no
luck at all on the river," cried John.
But their host was on his mettle, and felt himself a match for them
both. "As for the weather, I've no land in my own hands--not such a
fool! and I don't care a----that for the crops! Flies! you may have the
finest in the world, but without sense you'll make nothing of them. Come
with me, and I'll let you see how to make them bite. But as I was
saying," Torrance went on, elevating his voice, "if you think his
lordship is bent on the good of the county, you're mistaken, I can tell
you. He means to get the seat for Rintoul. And who's Rintoul, to
represent a county like this? A boy, in the first place--not fledged
yet; what I call fledgling. And knows nothing about what we want. How
should he? He never was in the county in his life till four or five
years ago. You would have thought a man like old Lindores, that has
been about the world, would have had more sense. That's just it; a man
knocks about these little foreign places, and he thinks he knows the
world. Now there's me. I would not take the trouble of Parliament, not
for any inducement. It's no object to me. I prefer quiet and my own way.
There's nothing that any Ministry could give me, neither office nor rise
in life. I'm content to be Torrance of Tinto, as my father was before
me: but at all events, I am one that knows the county and its ways. I
could tell them what's wanted for Scotland. But no! a boy like Rintoul
that knows nothing--without sense or experience,--he's the man. My
father-in-law, for so clever as he is, has awful little sense."
"There is no seat vacant as yet," said Dr Stirling; "we might leave that
question, Tinto, till the time comes."
"That's your old-fashioned way," said Torrance; "but his lordship is a
man of his century, as they call it. He'll not wait till the last
moment. He'll get himself known as the friend of Liberal measures, and
all that. All his tools are in the fire now; and when the time comes to
use them, they'll be hot and handy." Then he laughed, turning his eyes
from one to another. "You're his tools," he said.
It was not possible for either of the listeners to conceal the
irritation with which they received this sudden shot. They looked at
each other this time with a sudden angry consultation. Dr Stirling
touched his empty glass significantly with the forefinger of one hand,
and held up the other as a warning. "It seems to me," he said, "that it
would be an excellent thing about this time of the night to join the
ladies. It will very soon be time for my wife and me to go."
"He is afraid of his wife, you see, Erskine," said Torrance, with his
laugh. "We're all that. Keep out of the noose as long as you can, my
lad. You may be very thankful for what you've missed, as well as what
you've got."
"I suppose you mean something by what you are saying, Mr Torrance," said
John, "but I do not understand what it is."
Upon this Torrance laughed louder than before. "He's confounded
sly--confounded sly. He'll not let on he knows--that's because you're
here, Doctor. Join the ladies, as you say--that is far the best thing
you can do--and Erskine and I will have a glass more."
"A great deal better not, Tinto," said the Doctor; "you know it's not
the fashion now: and Lady Caroline will wonder what's become of us. It's
a little dark down the avenue, and my wife is nervous. You must come
and shake hands with her before she goes."
Both the guests rose, but the master of the house kept his seat. "Come,
Erskine, stay a bit, and tell me about--about--what was the name of the
place? Let the Doctor go. He has his sermon to write, no doubt, and his
wife to please. Go away, Doctor, we'll join you presently," Torrance
said, giving him a jocular push towards the door. "Come, Erskine, here's
a new bottle I want your opinion of. If you ever drank a glass of claret
like it, it will be a wonder to me."
John stood hesitating for a moment. Then he took his seat again. If he
was to quarrel with this fellow, better, he thought, to have it out.
"You want to question me," he said; "then do so simply, and you shall
have my answer. I am unaware what the point is; but whatever it is,
speak out--I do not understand hints. I am quite at your service if I
can furnish you with any information.
"Go away, Doctor," said Torrance, with another push. "Tell them we're
coming. I'll be in time to shake hands with Mrs Stirling: join the
ladies--that's the right thing to do."
The minister was in a great strait. He stood looking from one to
another. Then he went out slowly, closing the door softly behind him,
but lingering in the anteroom, that if any conflict of voices arose, he
might be at hand to interfere. Torrance himself was sobered by the
gravity of the proceeding. He did not speak immediately, but sat and
stared at the companion with whom he was thus left _tête-à-tête_. He had
not expected that John would have courage to meet this interrogation;
and notwithstanding his pertinacity, he was disconcerted. Erskine met
his gaze calmly, and said, "You wanted to ask me some questions. I am
quite at your disposal now."
"Question?--no, not so much a question," faltered the other, coming to
himself. "I'm sure--I beg your pardon--no offence was meant. I
asked--for information."
"And I shall be glad to give you any I possess."
Torrance made a pause again; then he burst out suddenly--"Hang it, man,
I didn't mean to give you any offence! I asked you--there couldn't be a
simpler question--what was the name of the place where--you met my--you
met the Lindores----"
"The place was a mountain inn on the way to Zermatt--a very secluded
place. We were there only about six weeks. Mr Lindores (then) and his
family were very friendly to us because of my name, which he knew. I
suppose you have some ulterior meaning in these questions. What is it? I
will answer you in all respects, but I ought to know what it means
first."
Torrance was entirely cowed. "It means nothing at all," he said. "I
daresay I am an idiot. I wanted to know----"
"We were there six weeks," repeated John--"an idle set of young men, far
better pleased with mountain expeditions than with our books. We did
little or nothing; but we were always delighted to meet a family-party
so pleasant and friendly. There we parted, not knowing if we should meet
again. I did not even know that Mr Lindores had come to the title. When
I found them here it was the greatest surprise to me. I had never even
heard----"
"Erskine," cried Torrance--by this time he had drank several more
glasses of wine, and was inclined to emotion--"Erskine, you're an honest
fellow! Whoever likes may take my word for it. You're an honest fellow!
Now my mind's at rest. I might have gone on suspecting and doubting,
and--well, you know a man never can be sure: but when another fellow
stands up to him honest and straightforward--" he said, getting up to
his feet with a slight lurch towards John, as if he would have thrown
himself upon his shoulder; and then he laughed with a gurgle in his
breath, and thrust his arm through that of his reluctant guest. "We're
friends for life," said Torrance; "you're an honest fellow! I always had
a fancy for you, John Erskine. Letsh join the ladies, as that old fogy
of a Doctor said."
The old fogy of a Doctor, who had been hanging about in alarm lest he
might be called upon to stop a quarrel, had no more than time to hurry
on before them and get inside the drawing-room door, before the master
of the house pushed in, still holding John by the arm. "Here," Torrance
cried, depositing his unwilling companion suddenly with some force in a
chair by Lady Caroline's side--"here, talk to her! You can talk to her
as much as you please. An honest fellow--an honest fellow, Lady Car!"
Then he made a somewhat doubtful step to Mrs Stirling, and stood over
her diffusing an atmosphere of wine around him. Poor ladies! in the
drawing-room, even in this temperate age, how often will a man approach
them, and sicken the air in their clean presence with fumes of wine! The
minister's wife was tolerant of the sins of the squires; but she
coughed, poor soul, as she was enveloped in these powerful odours.
"Well, Mrs Stirling," Torrance said, with cumbrous liveliness, "your
husband here, we could not get him away from his wine. We've been doing
nothing but talk of coming up-stairs this quarter of an hour; but get
the Doctor to budge from his wine--no! that was more than we could do,"
and he ended with a loud guffaw. The Doctor's wife coughed, and smiled a
sickly smile upon the great man, and shook her head with a "Fie,
William!" at her husband. "Dear me, dear me!" Mrs Stirling said after,
as she walked down the avenue with her Shetland shawl over her head,
holding close by her husband's arm, "when I think of poor Lady Caroline,
my heart's sore. That muckle man! and oh, the smell of him, William!
You're not so particular as you should be in that respect, the best of
ye--but I thought I would have fainted with him hanging over me. And
that fragile, delicate bit woman!" "She should not have married him,"
the Doctor said, curtly. But his wife was a merciful woman; and she did
not feel sure how far a girl would have been justified in refusing such
a marriage. She shook her head, and said, "Poor thing!" from the bottom
of her heart.
"I am glad I have met with Mr Torrance's approval," John said; but Carry
gave him so wistful a deprecating look, that he was silent. And he had
not yet escaped from his uncomfortable host. When Mrs Stirling went away
with her husband, Torrance, whose sole idea of making himself agreeable
to a woman was by rough banter, transferred himself with another lurch
to Nora. "And how's the old soldier?" he said. "I suppose he's going
over all the men within fifty miles to see who will make the best
husband, eh? It was all I could do to keep out of their hands when I was
a bachelor. If they had had their will, Lady Car would never have had
the chance of me: no great harm in that perhaps, you will say. But you
must not be saucy, Miss Nora. Men are not so easy to get when all's
said."
"No, indeed," said Nora--"men like you, Mr Torrance. I could not hope,
you know, to be so lucky as Lady Car."
Upon this, though his head was not very clear, the uneasy Laird grew
red, fearing satire. It was perfectly true, to his own thinking; but he
was enlightened enough to know that Nora had another meaning. He would
have liked to punish the little saucy chit, who held up (he thought) her
little face to his so disdainfully in his own house. As lucky as Lady
Car, indeed! She should have no luck at all, with that impudence of
hers. It would serve her right if she never got the offer of any man.
But he dared not say exactly what he thought. Conventional restraints,
in such a case, were too much for the free-born wit even of Pat Torrance
of Tinto.
"That's a great compliment to me, no doubt," he said; "but never be
down-hearted. There is as good fish in the sea as ever came out of the
net. There's our neighbour here, for instance," he said, stooping to
speak confidentially, and jerking his thumb over his shoulder at John,
with one of his usual bursts of laughter. "Now, what do you think of
him, Miss Nora? A real honest fellow, I can testify, and a nice little
property. What do you think of him?"
The tone was meant to be confidential, but it was loud enough to have
reached any ear in the room; and it was Nora's turn to redden with anger
intolerable. She jumped up, while he stood and laughed, shaking his
sides. "I've given her a poser there," he said. "I've given her her
answer there." He could not help returning to it, as, much against
Nora's will, he accompanied her to the door and put her into the little
pony-carriage which had come for her. "You must think of what I say,
Miss Nora. You would be very comfortable. You'll see that's what the old
soldier is driving at. And I don't think you could do better, if you'll
take my advice."
John, who had followed down-stairs, not wishing to have any more than he
could avoid of his host's society, saw the indignant countenance of Nora
looking out wrathfully upon himself as the carriage turned from the
door. What had he done to deserve the angry look? But the other,
standing somewhat unsteadily on the steps, greeted the departure with a
laugh that was loud and long.
"One good turn deserves another," he said. "I've put her against you,
Erskine, and that's the best thing I could do. Mind what you're about,
my fine fellow, or you'll fall into some snare or other. I would not
marry, if I were you. You have enough for one, but it wouldn't be enough
for two. If you manage Dalrulzian well, you may be very comfortable as
an unmarried man. Take my advice. Of course they will all be setting
their caps at you. There's Aggie Sempill--she thought she had got me:
but no, I knew better. Truly in vain is the snare set in the sight of
any bird. There! you've Scripture for it. And now here's Nora
Barrington----"
John grasped his arm violently. "Be silent!" he cried in his ear. The
butler stood on the steps behind laughing decorously under his breath,
as in duty bound, at his master's joke. John's new groom at his horse's
head grinned respondent. What he would have given to take the big clown
by the collar and fling him into the midst of the bushes! But this was
not to be thought of. Such violent impulses have to be repressed
nowadays.
"Well, well, we'll name no names," said Tinto. "They'll all be after
you; no need to name names. And I'll tell them all you're an honest
fellow. Don't you be led away by his lordship, no more than the women.
Keep your vote to yourself, and your heart to yourself, that's my
advice. Good night to you, John--you're a very decent fellow," cried the
big voice in the darkness. Torrance had found out that this epithet
annoyed young Erskine, and he liked it all the better in consequence. He
shouted it after him into the night, as with another great laugh he went
back into his house to Lady Car. Alas, poor Carry! The others went away,
shook off the disagreeable presence, got out of the atmosphere of his
wine and the roar of his laugh; but Carry, than whom there was no more
fastidious, delicately nurtured woman--Carry sat helpless, scared,
awaiting him. Whatever happened, she could not run away.
As for John, he flew down the avenue in the dark, taking that turn on
the top of the scaur, which was allowed by everybody to be so dangerous,
without knowing anything about it, guided by instinct and rage; for he
had never been there before. When they had passed the danger, Peter, the
groom, drew a long breath. "That's past, the Lord be thankit!" he said.
It was natural that Peter should suspect his master of sitting long
after dinner, and sharing the excitement of his host.
"What's past?" said John, angrily: he had nearly taken an inner gate,
dogcart and all, as if it had been a fence. His horse was fresh, and his
mind ablaze with irritation and impatience. "What's past?" he repeated,
angrily, when the man clambered up again to his side.
"That corner, sir, they call the Scaur. There used to be a paling, but
it fell to pieces, and this Laird--I beg your pardon, sir--young Tinto,
that is a perfect deevil when he's on a horse, would never let it be
mended. It's a' cleared away, and there's a grand view when there's
daylicht to see it, and doun-bye the sound o' the river roaring. If it
werena for the horse's feet and the rate we're going, you would hear it
now."
"You think we're going too fast----"
"Na--no me," said the groom, cautiously, "now that I see, sir, you ken
what's what. But it's a fickle corner in the dark. Not to know is maybe
the best way. When you ken, you're apt to be ower cautious or ower
bold--one's as bad as the ither. A wrang step, a bit swing out on the
open, and there would be no help for ye. Neither you nor me, sir, would
have seen a freend belonging to us again."
"It is unpardonable," said John, "if this is so, to leave it without
protection or notice."
"Well, sir, you see it's no just the richt road. It's a short cut. You
take the left hand at thae lily-oaks. I thought you bid to ken, as you
took it so bold, without a moment's thought. I wouldna advise you to do
it again. Tinto, he's a perfect deevil on horseback, as I was saying.
He's aye riding that way. They say he'll break his neck sometime or
other, he's so wild and reckless--ower that scaur----"
"And no such great loss either," cried John, in his indignation. He
hoped the words were not audible, in the rush of his horse's hoofs and
jingle of the harness, the moment they had left his lips; and he was
annoyed by the confidential tone of Peter's reply.
"Maybe no, sir. There's plenty is of that opinion. There was mair tint
at Shirramuir."
John felt as if he had condescended to gossip with his servant about his
neighbour, and was ashamed of himself. But as he reviewed the events of
the evening his pulses beat higher and higher. That he should have
pleased this big bully, and received the offer of his friendship, was
something half humiliating, half ridiculous. But what could he do? The
bonds of neighbourhood are stringent: that you must not, if possible,
quarrel with, or markedly avoid, or put any slight upon, the man whose
lands march with your own, is a self-evident proposition. And the
husband of Carry Lindores! When John thought of this part of it, there
escaped from him an almost groan of horror and pity. The rest of the
party had dispersed, and were free of the big laugh, the rude jests, the
fierce staring eyes; but Carry remained behind.
Peter the groom did not feel so sure that his new master had partaken
too freely of the wine at Tinto, which everybody knew to be better and
stronger than wine anywhere else, by the time they got to Dalrulzian.
But he announced that he was "just one of Tinto's kind, a deevil when
he's behind a horse," as he took his supper. This, however, was a
suggestion which brought down upon his head the indignant displeasure of
Bauby, who regretted audibly that she had kept the potatoes hot for such
an ill-speaking loon--and of Rolls, who, accepting the praise implied,
put down the superficial judgment of this new-comer as it deserved.
"There will no man beat an Erskine for clear head and steady hands," he
said, "if that's what you ca' being of Tinto's kind; but you'll observe,
my lad, that we're a' of a reasonable age, and I'll have nane o' your
rash opinions here."