"Dinna be fashed with me, lassie, I ainly say what I think and feel, and
I do believe that it is perhaps better things should tak' their course.
If ye could ha' married the man ye chose, Jenny, first aff, I dinna
think, my lassie, there'd ha' been this nice, smooth auld face under
your cap, and the grey ainly sprunk lightly among your hair, just like
to set it aff. Why, your e'en are bright as ay they were, when I had a
sair heart aboot Jock Gurdon, who's got well again, and Sir Mooray is na
gane to prosecute him; but, Jenny, lassie, he's na sae bad a man, aifter
all, Sir Mooray is na, for there, lassie--there they air, ten new crisp
five-pound notes, and all for Jock Gurdon, to take him ower to America,
and start life as a new man."
"Heaven bless Sir Murray for it!" said Jane, fervently.
"Amen to that, lassie; and I hope Jock Gurdon will mend his ways. And
I've been thinking, lassie, that if I tak' the money, it will rise up
some of the auld anger in the man, so ye shall e'en do it yer ainsel',
and give him a few words for his benefit; for ye're a gude woman, Jane,
and Heaven was verra kind to me when He gave me sic a wife."
Jane McCray did not speak, but her comely face was raised to her
husband's, and a few bright tears fell from her eyes as she returned his
loving kiss.
"I should be a happy woman if it were not for that poor bairn," said
Jane. "She believes it, though I scolded her, and told her how cruel
and false it all was, and that my own dear, sweet lady--"
"Hoot, lassie! ye're getting excited. The puir child has said `yes' to
his lordship at last, and they're to be married. Marriages air made in
heaven, lassie, so let's hope it's all for the best."
"For the best!" sobbed Jane McCray, wringing her hands. "Oh!
Alexander, dear husband! can't we stop it, for I foresee all sorts of
misery and unhappiness for them both in the days to come; and it's
cruel--cruel to force the poor child!"
"Nay, my lassie, but it is na force. She is only giving way to Sir
Mooray's wishes, and if my laird here were a proper man, I wad na say a
word. But there, he's gane to town for some days--till the wedding
time, noo--and the sooner its ower the better. Peter tells me that the
puir bairn met young Norton, when they were oot laist, and he tried to
speak to her, but she turned her head, and cantered on."
Jane groaned, and wrung her hands. "I wish I was in my grave, sooner
than see it all come to pass," she sobbed.
"Weel, it's perhaps a sair potion to swaller, Jenny; but be a woman.
What does the puir bairn say?"
"Say? Nothing; only goes about the place pale and wan, with her poor
heart breaking," said the housekeeper; "and when that creature--"
"Hoot, lassie! what creature?" said McCray.
"That popinjay lord," said Jane scornfully. "When--"
"Gude save us, lassie! dinna ye ken yer catechism: `order yersel' lowly
and reverently to a' yer betters;' and that's na ordering yersel' lowly
and reverently."
"When I've seen him take hold of her, as if she was his property that he
had bought, and stroke her hair and kiss her, the poor thing has
shuddered; and once she struggled from him, and came to me to take care
of her--for she only sees him with me in the room--and as soon as he'd
gone she sobbed, as if her heart would break."
"Puir bairn," said McCray; "but he's gane noo, and she'll ha'e a
respite."
"Respite, indeed!" said his wife angrily. "It puts me in mind of the
old time--over five-and-twenty years ago--when my poor dear lady was all
low and desponding because, at the wish of old Master and Mrs Elstree,
she had accepted Sir Murray; and there she was with her cousin, Mrs
Norton, you know, sobbing her poor eyes--I mean heart--away. I declare,
whether it's wrong or right, Alexander, that if that poor young man--no!
poor? nonsense: he's better off a deal than my fine lord, and as brave
as he's high--"
"That's a true word, lassie," said McCray, who was having his evening
pipe and tumbler of whisky and water, his day's duties being ended.
"If that Mr Norton came to me and asked me to help him to run away with
the child, I'd help him to the best of my power."
"Nay--nay--nay! your tongue's gane wild, lassie."
"Wouldn't you, then?" said Mrs McCray.
"Weel, I'll na say," said the cautious Scot. "Ye see, lassie, there's
for and against; and in spite of a' ye say about crule suspeeshons, I
think, as I said before, that it's our duty to all we know to haud our
peace and let matters tak' their course."
And matters were taking their course rapidly; for as time passed on,
Brace Norton roamed the lanes like the ghost of his former self; but
never once did he meet poor Isa.
The wedding-day was fixed, and the dresses were ordered, and once more
Merland was to be the scene of festivity and rejoicing. After the
wedding Lord and Lady Maudlaine, people said, were to start for the
Continent, and Sir Murray intended to go alone to Italy to reside, while
the Castle was to be the home of my lord and my lady.
"And you'll have fine doings there, I suppose," said one of two strange
men who had come down to stay at old Chunt's inn--surveyors they said
they were, perhaps connected with the working on the marsh.
"Yes," said Chunt, who was stout now, and hardly ever left his chair;
"the Castle will be again what it ought to be, for the new master, they
say, can make the shiners fly. I see he's come down again."
"Yes," said one of the men, taking his pipe from his month; "I see he's
come down."
"Ah, you know him, do you?" said Chunt.
"Know him? Well, so far as having him pointed out to me goes, I know
him. Fine thing for him, they say."
"Bless you," said Chunt, "I believe there's no end to the money he'll
have; but I hope it'll be a happy marriage, that's all I've got for to
say." And in spite of people trying to draw Chunt out, that _was_ all
he had to say, and he tightened his lips for fear another word should
escape. "Wanted, eh?" said Chunt--"I'm coming," and he waddled out to
speak to a new-comer.
"How do, sir? Post-chaise and pair, sir. Oh, yes, sir; any time you
like. You'll give your orders? Thanky, sir."
Mr Chunt waddled back as his visitor departed, and one of the
frequenters of the bar asked who that gentleman was.
"That gent?" said Chunt. "Oh! that's Master Brace Norton."
Book 2, Chapter XXVIII.