Volume I Part 2 (1/2)
”Like enough, mother: and, ragged as they are, there's many a bold fellow with rags on his back that would be glad to warm his hands over them.”
”There's one in his grave will never warm himself again.” And here the old woman began to mutter her unintelligible songs.
”So!--the old crooning!” said the young man to himself: and, going up to the fire, he said--”Mother, you mind nothing: you've no thought for any of us; and one of these days you'll be doing something or other that will bring the police rats upon us: and then all's up; and we shall all go to the old tree.”
”To the tree? go, and welcome! And I'll go with you. All the tribe of you is not worth a hair of _him_ that I knew once. And when the day comes that some are outside and knocking at the door that _shall_ knock (well I wot) one of these days,--and all you are hushed and trembling within, and the proudest of you shaking at the knees,--then comes my time for laughing: and I will open the door, and cry--Here they are!”
The young man muttered something to himself, pushed aside the cauldron, and laid on some f.a.ggots and dry wood,--so that the rude hovel was suddenly illuminated with splendour.
”Aye!” said the old woman, ”best make a beacon-fire, and light all the constables up hither!”
”Well, better be hanged than freeze!--But, mother--mother, where's the warm broth for the poor peris.h.i.+ng soul when he wakes?”
”What!” said the old woman angrily, ”shall I go down on my knees, and tend him like a son of my own? Well I remember the day (woe is me!) that they all scoffed at me when I moaned for one that was _not_ a stranger: as G.o.d's my help, I'll be no laughing-stock again: it's my turn to laugh next.”
”But Nicholas, mother--it's Nicholas that bids us tend him; and our souls are pledged for the stranger's.”
”Nicholas! eh? Oh! yes, bonny Nicholas! And _his_ soul is in pledge too. The old one has had him once by the head: and for that time he let him go: but he _has_ him for all that: the noose is fast; and there's no sheers will ever cut _that_ noose.”
Without paying any further regard to her words, the young man filled a kettle with water and placed it on the fire: then, shaking the old woman's arm--as if to rouse her (like a child) into some attention to his words--he said to her earnestly:
”Mother Gillie, now boil the sea-man's drink of thyme, ground-ivy, pepper, ginger, honey, brandy, and all that belongs to it--you know how: make it, as you make it for s.h.i.+p-wrecked folk; and give it every hour to the poor soul there: and remember this--mother Gillie's life answers for his.”
Like a child that has been told to do something under pain of punishment, the old woman answered--”Aye, aye; thyme, ground-ivy, pepper, ginger”--and went about her work. The young man then came up to the bed; and, laying his hands on Bertram, said--
”Ah, poor soul! he'll never be warm again: the sea has broke over him too roughly: but no matter: mother Gillie must brew the drink, if the man were a corpse; for Nicholas has said it.--Well, mother, G.o.d bless you! and another time when a Christian and one of us knocks at the door on a winter's night, sing out--_Come in!_ and, if he should chance to be cold and thirsty, give him a gla.s.s of brandy; and think now and then that a living man is made of flesh as well as bones.”
”Whither away then, Tom? To Grace, I'll warrant--the wench that has snared thee, and carries thee away from all thy kinsfolk.”
”No: I must be gone to the castle; for Sir Morgan hunts in the morning.”
”Ah! _that_ Sir Morgan! _that_ Sir Morgan! He wheedles thee, Tom; and to serve him thou leavest thy old mother. He and the young lady, and that la.s.s Grace build houses for thee; but a mother's curse will pull them down.”
”Mother, the baronet is my good friend: his father gave mine the oat-field by the sh.o.r.e: his grandfather saved mine from death in Canada: and the Walladmors have still been good masters; and we have still been faithful servants: and, let the white hats say what they will,--them that the quality calls radicals,--my notion is that people should stick to their old masters, and be true to them; and that's best for both sides.”
”Go, get thee gone to thy boat,--falsehearted lad; snakes will rear their heads out of the water, and seize on him that honoureth not his parents and that forgetteth his brother!”
Without shewing the least displeasure at these angry words, Tom took his leave; and the old woman now addressed herself in good earnest to the task of preparing the cordial for the young stranger. He meantime had gradually recovered his entire self-possession; and from the conversation between mother and son, most of which he understood, he had drawn conclusions which tended more and more to alarm him at his total loss of power over his limbs. From the expressions of the old woman, which marked an entire indifference about him, he antic.i.p.ated that she would be apt to mistake his apparent want of animation for a real one; and busied himself with all the horrors which such an error might occasion. But he was mistaken. The old woman followed the directions of her son to the letter. When her preparations were finished, a pleasant odour began to diffuse itself over the house; she drew near to the sick stranger; and rubbed his breast with a handful of the liquor. Almost immediately he felt the genial effects: the muscles of his face relaxed; he breathed more freely; his lips opened; and she poured a few spoonfuls of the cordial down his throat. Then wrapping him up in blankets, she raised him with a strength like that of a stout man rather than of an aged woman, and laid him down by the fire-side.
Here the cordial, combined with previous exhaustion and agitation, and the genial warmth of the fire, soon threw him into a profound sleep. He slept as powerless as a child that is rocked by its nurse, lulled by the unintelligible songs which the old woman continued to murmur to her spinning-wheel--and which still echoed through his dreams, though they had lost their power to alarm him.
Some hours he had slumbered, when he suddenly awoke to perfect consciousness and (what gave him still greater satisfaction) to the entire command of his limbs. He unswathed himself from his blankets; stood upright on his feet; and felt a lively sense of power and freedom as he was once more able to stretch out his arms and legs. In the house all was silent. The fire upon the hearth was glimmering with a sullen glow of red light; and it appeared to be about day-break; window there was none; but through a sort of narrow loop-hole penetrated a grey beam of early light. This however lent no aspect of cheerfulness to the hut.
On the contrary, the ruddy blaze of a fire had given a more human and habitable (though at the same time more picturesque) air to a dwelling which seemed expressly contrived to shut out the sun and the revelations of day light.--Looking round, he observed that the old woman was asleep: he drew near and touched her: she did not however awaken under the firmest pressure of his hand; but still in dreams continued at intervals to mutter, and to croon s.n.a.t.c.hes of old songs.
An instinctive feeling convinced Bertram that he was a prisoner, and that it would be advisable for him to quit the hut clandestinely: this purpose he prepared to execute as speedily as possible. Without delay he caught up his portmanteau and advanced to the door. It cost him no great trouble to find the bolts, and to draw them without noise. But, on opening the door and shutting it behind him, he found himself in fresh perplexity; for on all sides he was surrounded by precipitous banks of earth, and the faint light of early dawn descended as into a vault through a perforated ceiling. However he discovered in one corner a rude ladder, by means of which he mounted aloft, and now found that the roof of this vault consisted of overarching eglantine, thorn bushes, furze, and a thick growth of weeds and tangled underwood. From this he soon disengaged himself: turning round and finding that the hut had totally disappeared from sight, he now perceived that the main body of the building was concealed in a sort of cleft or small deserted quarry, whilst its roof, irregularly covered over with mosses and wild plants, was sufficiently harmonized with the surrounding brakes, and in some places actually interlaced with them, effectually to prevent all suspicion of human neighbourhood. At this moment a slight covering of snow a.s.sisted the disguise: and in summer time a thicket of wild cherry trees, woven into a sort of fortification by an undergrowth of nettles, brambles, and thorns, sufficiently protected the spot from the scrutiny of the curious.
Having wound his way through these perplexities, he found his labour rewarded; for at a little distance before him lay the main ocean. He stood upon the summit of a s.h.i.+ngly declivity which was slippery from the recent storm, and intersected by numerous channels; so that he was obliged in his descent to catch hold of the bushes to save himself from falling. The sea was still agitated; the sky was covered with scattered clouds; and in the eastern quarter the sun was just in the act of rising,--not however in majestic serenity, but blood-red and invested with a pomp of clouds, which reflected from their iron-grey the dull ruddy colors of the sun.
”When the sun rises red,” said Bertram, ”it foreshows stormy weather.