Volume Iii Part 11 (1/2)
”Civil or no civil, wench, it is as good to have half a dozen armed men lying concealed near us,” said Peter: ”An we dinna need them, the better. Rin your ways, and gar raise a' the auld men and the young lads in the two neist towns, for there is nae ither left. Pith's good in a' play.”
The maid did as she was ordered, and Peter, seeing that no better would be, tried to compel himself to a sort of civility, which, however, sat on him with a very bad grace. But, hides! hides!--nothing but hides was the burden of their enquiries; while Peter durst not for his life produce the hides, deeming that every man would know the hides of his own kine, and wreak tenfold vengeance on himself and household. He knew not, he said, what his son Dan, who took care of all these matters, had made of them,--sold them he supposed to the curriers and sutors of Selkirk,--and more than this Pate would not acknowledge. There was no other thing for it, nor perhaps did Laidlaw want any thing else, than for him and his companions to walk up the burn and make a seizure of the whole of Peter's excellent hides, with which they returned loaden to his dwelling. His confusion and distress of mind were most appalling when Laidlaw spread them all out before him, and asked in a very particular manner to be informed where he had got them. O! Peter knew nothing about them. They were not his at all.
He did not know to whom they belonged. But he would not stand to speak, turning his back always on the men, and hasting away, coughing and speaking to himself. He could have seen these presumptuous skin-men roasted on a brander, for they had now put him out of all patience, and all hope!
”Pray thee now, mine good friend, inform me this,” said Laidlaw; ”Did'st thou nwot get this seame fleckered one, and this brwoad one here, on the third of the last mwonth; and here's wother three, did'st thou nwo get them on the twentieth of the seame mwonth? Now tell me this I say? Why where is thou gwoing groombling inte theesel? Turn about thee feace to the heydes, and answer to the pwoint.”
”Aff hands is fair play,” said old Pate: ”I winna be forced wi' ony unmannerly English lown that ever I saw atween the een;” and with that he heaved his staff and struck Laidlaw across the shoulders, and over the steel bonnet repeatedly, who was like to burst with repressed laughter, but still persisted in his queries.
”What ails the owld catwiddied carle,” said he, ”that he winno answer a ceevil question? I's jwost wanting to tauk to thee aboot boosiness, and thou flees out in a reage and breaks me head. Come tourn again, and tell me when and where thou got'st this one, see, this wheyte one here! What's 't moombling at? Wolt thou tell me the price of them, then?”
”I want to hae naething to do wi' you, and as little to say to you; therefore, gang about your business, and dinna plague a poor auld unfeiroch man. The gate is afore ye, and your company's wanted elsewhere.”
Will would take none of those hints; he followed his uncourteous host about and about, till at last he fairly holded him beyond the fire; and then he took his seat over against him and conversed on, while his companions dropped in one by one and joined in it. For a while they got it all to themselves, but at length Pate, not being able to make better of it, suffered himself to be drawn in by degrees to join them, still preserving the same strain of disingeniousness. They asked who the two handsome striplings were that attended him, and spread the board with provisions? He answered that they were two sons of his own.
”Sons of thine?” said Laidlaw, ”Whoy, what are their neames?” ”Simon and John,” answered he; ”or rather Sim and Jock, for that's how we ca'
them.”
”Whoy, mon, that is the queerest thing I ever heard,” said Laidlaw: ”Then thou hast two swons of the neame of Jock, and other two of the neame of Sim, for I saw two of that neame, strapping youths, in the Warden's camp.”
Peter wist not well what answer to make; and, therefore, only added, ”Ay, Ay! Were you in the Warden's camp? Then tell me, is their ony word frae my son Dan?”
”Ay man, I can tell thee sic news of Dan as thou never heard'st; he has sitten at his supper hand and neive wi' the deil.” At these words one of the young men behind them (May Chisholm to wit,) uttered a suppressed scream, and from that moment Will Laidlaw smelled a rat, and soon discovered his own beloved Bess Chisholm standing gazing at him as he related the wonderful story of her brother's adventures with the devil, the warlock, and the three evil spirits; of his race with those infernals along the marble pavement of the air; his transformation into a horned beast; and of his eating and drinking with the prince of darkness. But the two striplings were most of all shocked at hearing of the devil's burning stomach, and how the wine _fizzed_ as it went down.
After listening and wondering while all these things were in relation, Bess said to the skin-dealer next to her, who chanced to be Sandy Pot, ”Pray, Sir, when you were in the camp of Sir Ringan Redhough, did you note a brave trooper, a friend of ours, named Laidlaw?”
”Oh, yes, that I did,” said Sandy: ”I know him well.” This was a glorious joke for Pot, and his comrades were afraid he would persevere in it till he put their secret out altogether.
”How is he reported in the army?” said she: ”Is it still alleged that he is the bravest and most successful battler in the baron's array?”
”_Bottler_, I suppose you mean,” said Sandy, ”for as to his battling, G.o.d mend that. He is not noted for ought that I ever heard of, except for keeping a flunkey, or a wall-i'-the-chamber, as the Frenchmen ca'
it; and it is reported thro' all the army, that that _wally_ o' his is an English girl. I can tell you that your neighbour, Will Laidlaw, is notorious for nothing else beside this.”
”It is false as thyself, and thy perjured ungenerous nation,” said the disguised maiden. ”I know my friend to be honour's self, and of a house whose courage and integrity were never called in question. The man that dares to slander him had better do it somewhere else than in my presence, and under my father's roof. But I degraded him myself, by putting his name into the mouth of such a mean forager as thou art!
The man whose actions are base, always accuses the brave and generous of deeds such as his own.”
”Bless me, what ails the chiel?” said Sandy, laughing good humouredly:--”What's the great ill o' keeping _a wally_? I aince keepit ane mysel, there's nae doubt o't, till my uncle, Gideon Scott, set up his birse, and gart me part wi' the creature.”
The rest laughed at Sandy being put out of countenance by the indignant stripling; but Bessy Chisholm turned on her heel, and walked out at the door, muttering expressions about vulgarity, raw hides, and maggots; and Will Laidlaw, not able to contain himself, rose and walked out after her, in a visible state of mental agitation. As he approached the stable door quietly, into which she had turned, he heard her saying to herself. ”Laidlaw keep an English mistress in disguise! No, the fellow is a poltroon, and a liar, and I will not believe it.” Will entering at that moment, seized her hand between both his, and kissed it, saying, in a pa.s.sionate style, ”My own dear and high-spirited Bess Chisholm still!”
Never was there seen such a statue of amazement! The tones of the voice, now uttered in its natural key, were familiar to her. But the figure that uttered them! To be addressed in that style by a great burly thief of an English skin-buyer, outwent all comprehension. She was in a man's dress, be it remembered,--and there she stood, with her face half raised, her ruddy lips wide apart, and her set eyes of lucent blue showing a mixture of astonishment and disdain. ”What?
what? Sir,” was all that she could say, until the ragam.u.f.fin figure reminded her of the weaponshaw at Mountcomyn, and some love-tokens and vows, of which none knew save one. But, with a woman's natural caprice, she now was angry at him in turn having discovered her true sentiments, and refused to acknowledge him as her lover in that hateful disguise, unless the meaning of it was explained to her. He told her, that the meaning of it was unknown to himself; that he took it at his captain's command; but that his fortune depended on the secret being kept.
”There you are safe, at all events,” said she; ”and it is well you have disclosed yourself in time, for my father has raised the country, and it is not improbable that, before to-morrow, you should have been all dead men.”
”I think we have been in greater jeopardies,” said he: ”But in the mean time keep up your disguise, that my comrades may not discover your s.e.x;--and we two must have some private discourse during the night, for I have much to say to you.”
”Not I, master, I winna court ae word wi' a man in the dress of a vulgar English boor; for it is sae hatefu' to me, I can like nought that's within it. Ah me! I wot ill how it is; but I think I hardly detest it sae sair already.”
”My bonny, haughty, pawkie, sweet Elizabeth!” cried Laidlaw.--But Isaac the curate says, that, being himself a married man, he could not go on with all the overcharged outrageous stuff that pa.s.sed between these two fond lovers; so he pa.s.ses it over, as well as the conversation at their evening meal, which Bess took care to make a plentiful and savoury one; and in the mean time, she was in such high spirits herself, that the troopers, who did not know her, took the young man for the most swaggering puppy they had ever seen. She challenged Sandy Pot to fight her with single rapier, knowing well that Laidlaw would find some means of preventing it; but it was evident that old Peter thought her entirely out of her senses, for he tried to get her away from about the house to the residence of one of the neighbouring gentlemen yeomen for the night, but the experiment was vain.
When he saw such a goodly supper, or dinner, (for they were both in one,) set down to these uncouth, and, to him, unwelcome guests, he could not contain his chagrin, and at first refused to turn out to the board, or partake with the rest. But when he saw that the good fare would all go, he grew as restless as if he had been sitting on pins, till Bess, who knew his way, took him by the arm, and pretended to force him jocularly out to the table. But Peter was not ill to force; for in place of receding, he made all the haste into the head of the board that he could, though at the same time always repeating, ”I tell ye, callant, it is downright wastery.” He, however, plied as good a knife and as good a horn-spoon as any of them all.