Volume Iii Part 13 (2/2)
Though lyart be my locks and gray, And eild has crook'd me down,--what matter?
I'll dance and sing ae ither day, That day our King comes o'er the water.
_Jacobite Song._
From the time of the taking of the castle until the arrival of King Robert, was an interval of high festivity. The Border chiefs and yeomen went home to their respective places of abode with abundant spoil, having been loaded with rich presents from the Douglas, as well as their share of Sir Ringan's numberless booties, which he always divided among them with great liberality; and it was computed that, in the course of that predatory warfare, he drove thirty thousand domestic animals out of the English territory. The Scottish Border districts were never so well stocked before. For a century previous to that, they had lain waste, having been entirely depopulated, and left no better than a hunting forest. That reign enriched them, and its happy effects have never since been obliterated.
Among other things that happened in this joyful interval, old Peter Chisholm received a message one day, informing him, that the stranger to whom he had betrothed his daughter would appear next day to claim the fulfilment of his promise.
”They'll eat up every thing that's within the house,” said Peter: ”If he will have her, it wad suit better for us to meet them at Hawick.
The half o' the expences there wad lye to him at ony rate; and if he made weel through wi' his hides, mayhap he wad pay the halewort. He's a brave chield enough, it wad appear; but I wish he had fawn aff the tap o' his humphed ill-smelled hides, and broken the bane o' his neck; for it will be a wae sight to me to see the flower of a' the Chisholms gang away wi' an English cadger. Oh, wae be to the day!”
”What is a man but his word, father?” said Dan. ”I think the gallant way in which the stranger behaved ent.i.tles him well, not only to the flower o' the Chisholms, but to the best in the house beside.”
”Ay, ay, that's aye the gate! fling away! fling away! till ye'll soon fling away every plack your auld father has gathered for ye. But, hark ye, callant Dan: Gin ye will stand by me, I'll gainsay the fellow yet, and refuse to gie him my Bess.”
”Hear what Bess says hersel,” said Dan, ”and then I'll gie my answer.”
Bess was sent for, who declared not only her willingness, but her resolution to abide by her father's agreement; but, added, that if a better came before him, and made her an offer, she would not wait a minute on her leather-merchant.
”Heard ever ony body the like o' that?' said Peter: ”What trow ye is the chance for that? How lang hae ye hung on the tree wi' a red cheek an' a ripe lip, and never man to streek out the hand to pu' ye? There was aince a neighbour I had some hopes o'; an' he has a good heart too, for a' his jibes, an ane durst but tell him!”
Peter said these last words to himself, as he was turning about to leave the apartment,--for he was at that time forming in his mind one of those superlative schemes which strike dotage as plans of the mightiest and most acute device, but which youth and energy laugh at.
This was no other than to be early astir next morning, and, before any of his family was aware, gallop over to Craik, a matter of seven miles, and beg of Will Laidlaw to come and run off with his daughter before she fell into the hands of an English skin-man. This grand scheme he actually put in practice, but met Laidlaw and his jovial party by the way, who wondered not a little when they saw old Pate coming gallopping up the Fanesh ridge, having his great pike staff heaved over his shoulder, with which he was every now and then saluting the far loin of his mare, and that with an energy that made all his accoutrements wallop. He never perceived the bridal party till close on them, and till he was asked by half a score voices at once, ”What's the great haste, Castleweary! Where are ye gawn at sic a rate sae early in the morning? Are your ha's burnt? Are your cattle driven?
Have the Ha's and the Reids been o'er the fells aince mair?” And many other such questions were put, before Peter got a word spoken or a thought thought. He only bit his lip, and looked very angry, at being caught in such a plight. But seeing Will Laidlaw at the head of his kinsmen, he took him aside, and imparted his grand secret. Will's sides were like to burst with laughter. He, however, contained himself, while Peter went on ”But ye had better turn a' that clan again, wha hae nought ado at a' wi' us but put things to waste. The less din about the thing the better.”
”But how are we to answer the skin-merchant when he comes then, Castleweary? That tremendous buyer of hides will hew us all to pieces.”
”Ay, ye maun just take a' the blame on yoursels, you and Bess. He'll no mak muckle at the Laidlaw's hands, or he'll do what never ony did afore him.”
”I certainly have the greatest respect for your daughter; but times are hard and dangerous, and I have nae great opinion o' marriage.”
”Come, now, I like to hear that; for ye ken fock maun ay read a Laidlaw backward; and if the times are hard, I shall be satisfied with a very small dowry. Perhaps the matter o' ten tup hogs aff the Crib-law, sax owsen aff Hosecot, and----
”Hold there, my old friend; and I will run all risks, and take away your daughter Elizabeth; let the skin-man look to himself.”
”Weel, G.o.d bless ye wi' her. Ye'll get the flower of a' the Chisholms, and the best bairn o' the bike.”
Bess was a winsome and a blithe bride that day, and though the wounds she received in the engagement with the marauders were not quite whole, she danced the best at the wedding, and was the first that lighted on Craik-green. Dan entertained his fellow-soldiers n.o.bly; but old Peter was terribly in the fidgets, not only at the huge waste of meat and drink that he now saw going on, but for fear of the arrival of the outrageous and ill-used hide-merchant, and never till his dying day could he be brought to identify his son-in-law with the stranger to whom he first promised his daughter. But for many a day, when the dogs barked, he hasted out in great agitation, lest the dealer in skins and his a.s.sociates should come upon him unawares. Sandie Pott having found a very kind, attentive, and, withal, a very indulgent nurse, in the younger daughter, May Chisholm, there chanced two weddings at Castleweary on the same day.
Among other matters of that eventful period, Isaac the curate mentions also a pet.i.tion of the friar to Sir Ringan, that he would use his interest to get the youthful bard, who had come an adventurer into his army, replaced in his rights of the lords.h.i.+p of Ravensworth; and likewise that he would grant him the captive maid, Delany, for his bride. These important connections had never before come to the Warden's ears; and when he heard the extraordinary adventures, and early misfortunes of the twain, he manifested the greatest concern for their welfare. But the maid, by the laws of those days, was the right and property of Sir Charles Scott, who seemed unwilling to part with her, and she not less so to be divided from him, now that his late honours became him so well. This was a distressing consideration to the poet, and he would in nowise leave her, to lay claim to his paternal estate, till he saw how matters would turn in his favour. But the friar still encouraged him, a.s.suring him, ”that he should be restored to the house and to the inheritance of his fathers; and that the fairest among the daughters of women, even the sole remaining stem of the house of Galli the scribe, should be unto him as a spouse and a comforter.”
But among all the festivities at Roxburgh, and all the mighty preparations for the reception of royalty, and the spending of the Christmas holidays in such company, the countenance of Douglas was manifestly overcast. He affected mirth and gaiety, but a hideous and terrific gloom frequently settled on his dark manly countenance. The princess's shameful and untimely death hung heavy on his mind, and the secret of it still heavier. His conscience upbraided him, not with any blame in the matter, for he was alike ignorant of the rank and s.e.x of his fantastical page: But her devotion to his cause and person; the manner in which she had exerted herself by putting her rival into his hands; the love-tokens slily given to him by her own dear self; her admonitory letters; and all her whimsical and teazing inuendos, came over his mind, and combined in rendering her memory ten times dearer to him than ever he conceived that of human being could have been. And then, how was all this requited? By bad humour, disrespect, and a total disregard of her danger and sufferings. The most enthusiastic, affectionate, and accomplished lady of the age in which she lived, was suffered to be put down as a common criminal, without one effort being made to save her; and that delicate and beautiful form thrust down into a common charnel-house among the vulgar dead. Knowing all these things as he did, how could he again behold her royal parents?
and knowing all these things as he did, why had he not related the lamentable facts as they had happened, and conducted himself accordingly? There was fixed the acme of his dilemma. The detail of that lady's love and fate rose before his mind's eye, like a dark unseemly arch, of which this was the key-stone; and there was a power stood above it that held his soul in controul, and beyond that he could not pa.s.s. Was it indeed true, that the spirit of his royal and beloved mistress walked the earth, and from day to day laid her stern behests upon him? And could it be that such a spirit attended upon him in his most secret retirements; and, though unseen, watched over all his motions, words, and actions? Or how else could the very thoughts and purposes of his heart, together with his most secret transactions, be repeated to him by this holy monk? Nay, though he had never actually seen this apparition, he had heard his mistress's voice one night speaking to him as from behind the hangings, and charging him, as he respected his own and her soul's welfare, to keep her fate concealed from all flesh.
Whenever the Douglas got leisure to think at all, amid the hurry of his military duties, these cogitations preyed on his mind; and one night when they had thrown him into a deep reverie, the monk Benjamin was announced.
<script>