It must be evident to the most unpractised eye that the young
gentleman recognised by his old servant, and the pretty young lady in
the plain chariot, are the hero and heroine of this true story. And a
very fitting hero and heroine they would have been for a tale of far
higher pretensions than the plain unvarnished one which it is now our
duty to deliver. At present, all we can afford to tell the reader is
the fact of their being consumedly in love--that their love proved its
truth by not running very smoothly--and that, at the moment at which
we have brought them on the stage, they had had no communication for
several months before. The delight, therefore, of Henry Raymond on
recognising Jane Somers at Meg Dods's door, was equalled by his
surprise. He formed one of a party going down for the twelfth of
August to the moors of his friend, Lord Teysham; but the interview he
had had with his former domestic, Bill Copus, who had attended him
through his career at Oxford, and afterwards for a short time to the
Continent, somewhat cooled his zeal as a sportsman, by adding to his
hopes as a lover. The forced embargo laid on them by the hostess of
Fushie Bridge--for she was resolute in refusing to take them on with a
pair, and the cattle of the last stage were miserably tired--gave him
time to lay so much of his plans before his friends as he saw fit;
and, long before the second pair, which had been with a party to
Leith, had been refreshed, and were ready to start, his companions had
unanimously passed a resolution, "that it was incumbent on the members
of this excursion, collectively and individually, to give all possible
aid and assistance to Henry Raymond, in overthrowing the plans of all
persons of the name of Smith, or of any other name or denomination
whatever, and marrying a certain young lady of the name of Jane
Somers."
But Lord Teysham, who united a great deal of good plain sense with his
buoyancy of spirits, took him quietly aside, and asked him--
"Why, in heaven's name, if he liked the girl, he didn't propose for
her in form?"
"I have, my dear fellow," replied Harry, "and been refused."
"By whom?"
"The uncle. He wrote me a letter, saying my favour of 3d ult. had come
duly to hand, and he declined the offer as expressed therein,--and he
remains, sir, for self and niece, my obedient servant, Thomas Smith."
"But had he a right to send you this letter?"
"As guardian and uncle, I suppose he has; but as empowered by Jane
herself, none whatever."
"But what's his objection?"
"I've an elder brother."
"Well, but your governor is a close old boy. He has metal enough for a
frigate besides his First-rate."
"Yes; but he has told me a hundred times that tit for tat is the only
game he plays at--whatever fortune I bring he will pay me over the
same; if I marry for love, I must live on it. I could give you a score
or two more of his wise sayings."
"Oh! thank ye--I've a good stock of my own; but why, in the name of
wonder, is he so distrustful? Can't he give you credit for being able
to choose, without bribing you, as it were, to look out for a
fortune?"
"My father won't give credit to any one, especially to me; besides, he
has some little cause to be suspicious, for I've cleaned him out of a
trifle once or twice, in a way that makes him slow to bite now. I have
been on the point of marriage twice--once to old Crocky, and once to
Stulz."
"How?"
"Why, you see, last year I was dipt a little to the fishmonger, and
wrote a matrimonial letter home hinting at trousseaus and other
expenses, but mentioning no names. Nothing could please the old
gentleman so much, and it was on that occasion he sent me up the
paper, properly signed and attested, binding himself to give me guinea
for guinea whatever fortune I might get with my wife. A thousand he
sent me to do the needful in the way of jewels and other presents, set
me square with all the world."
"And your progenitor was indignant at the disappointment?"
"Oh! horribly; and unless it had been for a four-year bill of Stulz, I
shouldn't have troubled him so soon. But, as I was aware that Walter
knew of the obligation about my future fortune, I gave him to
understand that I was devoted to Miss Coutts, and that I had no reason
to despair. The very thought of such a thing was death both to the old
Jack Daw and the young. The squire and his eldest hope would have been
both in the poor-house if I had succeeded in carrying off the heiress,
and had kept them to their bond. So, after a week or two, I let them
off for their alarm, and a moderate tip. But all these things, my dear
Teysham, are over now. I am resolved to marry Jane Somers, and cut
both Stulz and Crocky."
"If you can get her; but this old monster, with the uncommon name, has
her in his power. We must concert measures calmly, and we need not
despair. Will she herself help us?"
"To be sure she will. Her new home must be misery to her. She is the
daughter of a sister of this old Smith, who, by some chance or other,
married a gentleman. She had a large fortune, which now belongs to
this only child. Colonel Somers has long been dead; the widow died a
few years ago. Jane was then educated in the house of another
guardian, a cousin of Colonel Somers, who lived near Bath; and, on his
lately being sent to India on a high command, she was claimed by this
Manchester hobgoblin, and torn from all her old friends."
"Yourself among the rest?"
"Just so--and now you know the whole story."
In which respect, as we conclude, the reader is by this time on a par
with Lord Teysham, we quit the conclave at Fushie Bridge, and proceed
to the more splendid apartments in Douglas's Hotel.
In the little drawing-room that looks to St Andrew Square, the evening
seemed to have passed stupidly enough. Aunt Alice, after yawning till
tea time, and scolding the greater part of that excellent time-killer,
had at last, at about nine o'clock, betaken herself to her bedroom, to
bring down the _Scottish Chiefs_--a book of manners and statistics
from which all her notions of the Scottish nation of an early period
were derived. _Waverley_, and the other northern stories of the
enchanter, supplied her with all her modern information; and not very
bad sources they would have been, if Miss Alice had been able to
understand the language in which they were written. But our noble
vernacular was to her a more impenetrable mystery than any revealed at
Eleusis, and it was, perhaps, on this account that she entertained so
decided a preference for the performance of Miss Porter.
Jane Somers, whom we have hitherto represented as either listless or
sleeping, was sitting busily engaged in the somewhat unusual
occupation of thinking. And, as her thoughts were wandering about
Lansdowne, and a vast apartment, nobly lighted and filled with the
sounds of revelry by night, we need not be surprised if they
occasionally made a detour to the stables of Fushie Bridge, and the
sight that met her there. While musing deeply on these very
interesting subjects, our friend Copus entered the room and said--
"Please, mum, one of the vaiters here knows all about them there
places as master talks so much on; p'raps Miss Alice would like to
hear about 'em?"
"I will tell my aunt, William," said the young lady, and returned to
her former musings.
Copus retired and shut the door.
A low voice at her ear as she again rested her head upon the arm of
the sofa, whispered "Jane!"
On looking up she saw a tall man dressed in the usual waiter's
costume, with a large white cloth spread over his left arm.
"Harry Raymond!" she said, but by some unaccountable instinct
speaking, even in the extremity of her surprise, in a tone of voice
that scarcely reached beyond the person she addressed,--"In Heaven's
name, what do you here?--in this disguise? Aunt Alice will detect you,
and then my situation will be made doubly miserable."
"Then it _is_ miserable, Jane? Why do you submit to it? Ah, Jane,
you have forgotten, surely, the promises you gave me."
"Forgetfulness seems to have existed on more sides than one. I have
been four months in Lancashire, and am indebted, at last, to a chance
meeting in Scotland for being recalled to your recollection."
"Recollection!" echoed the young man, in the liveliness of his emotion
flinging the white cloth upon the floor. "Good heavens! what can have
put such a notion into your head? I have written letter upon letter,
both to you and your guardian--that is, after I found out where you
had gone to. My letters to you have not been answered; my letter to
him was answered by a refusal."
"Harry, Harry, he never consulted me--I never"----but here she checked
herself, as perhaps she considered that the vehemence of her denial
might be construed into something very like an anxiety to retract it;
and whether this was the construction put on it or not, all we have to
say is, that on Miss Alice Smith slipping quietly into the room, with
a volume of the _Scottish Chiefs_ in her hand, she almost screamed,
as she saw a stranger seated on the sofa beside her niece, and holding
her very earnestly by the hand.
"How! what's all this?" exclaimed Miss Alice. "Them Scotch is the
oddest people!"
"Young lady nearly fainted, ma'am, at some accounts I was giving her
of the Highlands, ma'am. I'm waiter here, ma'am; and it's part of my
business, ma'am, to give all sorts of information to the English
families as they pass through the city, ma'am."
"And what were you a-telling of to this young lady?"
"Only a few incidents that occasionally happen in such wild scenes as
Fash-na-Cairn or Ben-na-Groich. They say the new Ben-na-Groich is an
English nobleman, with a very handsome sister;--I was merely telling
this young lady here what would probably be the fate of the beautiful
English-woman."
"Gracious me!" exclaimed Miss Alice: "no wonder she fainted, poor
thing. What was it? for mercy's sake--what will they do to her?"
"Fash-na-Cairn and all his clan have been at war for hundreds of years
with Ben-na-Groich. He will probably lead a foray upon the new chief
and carry off his sister."
"Gracious! how old is this Fash-na-Cairn?"
"About five-and-twenty. He has buried his fifteenth wife. They seldom
live more than three months."
"Oh, Jane! Jane! we're lost--ruined--murdered! Waiter, _I'm_ the
sister of Ben-na-Groich, the victim of Fash-na-Cairn!"
"Sorry, ma'am, I've alarmed you; but, perhaps, the friends of the clan
may gather round Ben-na-Groich, and succeed in capturing
Fash-na-Cairn."
"And what then?" inquired Miss Alice, with a glimpse of hope.
"Oh, then, it is the universal custom for the next in blood of the
chieftain, if she be unmarried, to cut off a finger of the prisoner
every day with an old hereditary hatchet kept for that purpose, till
he relents, and offers to make her his bride. If he does so before he
has lost the fingers of both hands, the feud is at an end."
Miss Alice shuddered at the thoughts of cutting off a young man's
fingers.
"Oh, waiter, this is dreadful news! I'm certain my poor brother knew
nothing of this when he purchased that horrible property. And what
will they do to _him_ if the furry succeeds?"
"Tie him up in a wolf's skin, and hunt him to death with bloodhounds."
"My poor brother, my poor brother! And he so fat, and subject to the
gout! But it's quite true--it's exactly what they did to the Bohemian
in _Quentin Durward_."
"The present Fash-na-Cairn is a descendant of Le Balafré."
"Oh, the monster! Have they no police at Ben-na-Groich, nor even
special constables?--no justice of peace?"
"The only justice there is the dirk and claymore. But the young lady
seems revived now. Do you take supper? I'll send the chambermaid
directly, ma'am."
When the historical and veracious waiter left the room, the long and
stately figure of Miss Alice sank slowly down upon the sofa. Jane
Somers's face was buried in her hands, and, by the tremors that ran
through her whole frame, and the redness of what was visible of her
cheeks and neck, it was evident that she was nearly in convulsions
with some powerfully suppressed feeling. The aunt, of course,
considered it to be the result of terror, whatever sager guess the
reader may make upon the subject, and gave way to a fit of dolorous
lamentation, that did not much contribute to her niece's recovery.
"This comes of pride, and being one of the Scottish chiefs! To be
eaten up by bloodhounds, and have his sister carried off by
Fash-na-Cairn! Blue-Beard was a joke to him; fifteen wives, and only
five-and-twenty!--more than three per annum since he came of age! I
will put my brother on his guard the moment we arrive. This is truly a
barbarous country, and inhabited by nobody but murderers and
cannibals. Hobbins and Huxtable will be amazed to hear of their
partner's fate--and my brother never was partial to dogs!"