Part 39 (1/2)
[The artist alluded to in this pa.s.sage in Mons. Florence, cook to Henry and Charles, late Dukes of Buccleuch, and of high distinction in his profession.]
”Nothing,” answered the Dominie--”scelestissima!--that is--gudewife.”
”Hae then,” said she, placing the dish before him, ”there's what will warm your heart.”
”I do not hunger--malefica--that is to say--Mrs. Merrilies!” for he said unto himself, ,the savour is sweet, but it bath been cooked by a Canidia or an Ericthoe.”
”If ye dinna eat instantly, and put some saul in ye, by the bread and the salt, I'll put it down your throat wi' the cutty [*Short.]
spoon, scaulding as it is, and whether ye will or no. Gape, sinner, and swallow!”
Sampson, afraid of eye of newt, and toe of frog, tigers' chaudrons, and so forth, had determined not to venture; but the smell of the stew was fast melting his obstinacy, which flowed from his chops as it were in streams of water, and the witch's threats decided him to feed. Hunger and fear are excellent casuists.
”Saul,” said Hunger, ”feasted with the witch of Endor.”--”And,”
quoth Fear, ”the salt which she sprinkled upon the food showeth plainly it is not a necromantic banquet, in which that seasoning never occurs.”--”And, besides,” says Hunger, after the first spoonful, ”it is savoury and refres.h.i.+ng viands.”
”So ye like the meat?” said the hostess. ”Yea,” answered the Dominie, ”and I give thee thanks-sceleratissima!--which means--Mrs. Margaret.”
”Aweel, eat your fill; but an ye kenn'd how it was gotten, ye'
maybe wadna like it sae weel. ”Sampson's spoon dropped, in the act of conveying its load to his mouth. There's been mony a moon-light watch to bring a' that trade thegither,” continued Meg,--”the folk that are to eat that dinner thought little o' your game-laws.”
”Is that all?” thought Sampson, resuming his spoon, and shovelling away manfully; ”I will not lack my food upon that argument.”
”Now, ye maun tak a dram?”
”I will,” quoth Sampson--”conjuro te--that is, I thank you heartily,” for he thought to himself, in for a penny, in for a pound; and he fairly drank the witch's health, in a cupful of brandy. When he had put this cope-stone upon Meg's good cheer, he felt, as he said, ”mightily elevated, and afraid of no evil which could befall unto him.”
”Will ye remember my errand now?” said Meg Merrilies; ”I ken by the cast o' your ee that ye're anither man than when you cam in.”
”I will, Mrs. Margaret,” repeated Sampson stoutly ”I will deliver unto him the sealed yepistle, and will add what you please to send by word of mouth.”
”Then I'll make it short,” says Meg. ”Tell him to look at the stars without fail this night, and to do what I desire him in that letter, as he would wish
”That Bertram's right and Bertram's might Should meet on Ellangowan height.
I have seen him twice when he saw na me; I ken when he was in this country first, and I ken what's brought him back again. Up, an' to the gate! ye're ower lang here-follow me.”
Sampson followed the sibyl accordingly, who guided him about a quarter of a mile through the woods, by a shorter cut than he could have found for himself; they then entered upon the common, Meg still marching before him at a great pace, until she gained the top of a small hillock which overhung the road.
”Here,” she said, ”stand still here. Look how the setting sun breaks through yon cloud that's been darkening the lift a' day. See where the first stream o' light fa's--it's upon Donagild's round tower--the auldest tower in the Castle o' Ellangowan--that's no for naething!--See as it's glooming to seaward abune yon sloop in the bay--that's no for naething neither.--Here I stood on this very spot,” said she, drawing herself up so as not to lose one hair-breadth of her uncommon height, and stretching out her long sinewy arm and clenched hand, ”Here I stood, when I tauld the last Laird o' Ellangowan what was coming on his house--and did that fa'
to the ground?--na--it bit even ower sair!--And here, where I brake the wand of peace ower him--here I stand again--to bid G.o.d bless and prosper the just heir of Ellangowan that will sune be brought to his ain; and the best laird he shall be that Ellangowan has seen for three hundred years.--I'll no live to see it, maybe; but there will be mony a blithe ee see it though mine be closed. And now, Abel Sampson, as ever ye lo'ed the house of Ellangowan, away wi' my message, to the English Colonel, as if life and death were upon your haste!”
So saying, she turned suddenly from the amazed Dominie, and regained with swift and long strides the shelter of the wood from which she had issued, at the point where it most encroached upon the common. Sampson gazed after her for a moment in utter astonishment, and then obeyed her directions,--hurrying to Woodbourne at a pace very unusual for him, exclaiming three times, ”Prodigious! prodigious! prodi-gi-ous! ”
CHAPTER XLVII.
--It is not madness That I have utter'd; bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word; which madness Would gambol from.
Hamlet
As Mr. Sampson crossed the hall with a bewildered look, Mrs.