Volume Iii Part 18 (1/2)
Mary was as busy all the remaining part of that day as ever was a bee in a meadow. She had private business with the Queen, and had art or interest enough to get two private audiences. She had business with the lady Jane Howard; a word to say to the King, and two or three to the lord Douglas--But it is a great loss that these important disclosures cannot be imparted here,--for every word that she told to each of them was a profound secret! Not a word of it ever to be repeated till death! What a loss for posterity! It had one quality, there was not a word of truth in all this important disclosure; but an ingenious lie by a woman is much more interesting than one of her true stories. There was, however, one of Mary Kirkmichael's secrets came to light, though none of those above-mentioned; and from the complexion of that, a good guess may be made at the matter of all the rest.
Sir Charles Scott, alias Muckle Charlie of Yardbire, was standing at the head of his hard-headed Olivers, his grimy Potts, and his skrae-shankit Laidlaws, in all amounting now to 140 brave and well appointed soldiers. He had them all dressed out in their best light uniform, consisting of deer-skin jackets with the hair outside; buckskin breeches, tanned white as snow, with the hair inside; blue bonnets as broad as the rim of a lady's spinning wheel, and clouted single-soaled shoes. He was training them to some evolutions for a grand parade before the King, and was himself dressed in his splendid battle array, with his plumes and ta.s.sels of gold. His bonnet was of the form of a turban, and his tall nodding plumes consisted of three fox tails, two of them dyed black, and the middle one crimson. A goodlier sight than Sir Charles at the head of his borderers, no eye of man (or woman either) ever beheld. As he stood thus giving the word of command, and brandis.h.i.+ng the Eskdale souple by way of example, in the great square in the middle of the fortress, a little maid came suddenly to his side and touched him. Charles was extending his voice at the time, and the interruption made him start inordinately, and cut a loud syllable short in the middle. The maid made a low courtesy, while Charles stooped forward and looked at her as a man does who has dropt a curious gem or pin on the ground, and cannot find it. ”Eh? G.o.d bless us, what is't hinny? Ye war amaist gart me start.”
”My mistress requests a few minutes private conversation with you, sir knight.”
”Whisht dame! speak laigh,” said Sir Charles, half whispering, and looking raised-like at his warriors: ”Wha's your mistress, my little bonny dow? Eh? Oh you're nodding and smirking, are you? Harkee, It's no the auld Queen, is it? Eh?”
”You will see who it is presently, gallant knight. It is a matter of the greatest import to you, as well as your captain.”
”Ha! Gude faith, then it maunna be neglected. I'll be w'ye even now, lads; saunter about, but dinna quit this great four-nooked fauld till I come back again. Come along, then, my wee bonny hen chicken. Raux up an' gie me a grip o' your finger-ends. Side for side's neighbour like.” So away went Sir Charles, leading his tiny conductor by the hand, and was by her introduced into one of the hundred apartments in the citadel.
”Our captain is gaun aff at the nail now,” said Will Laidlaw; ”Thae new honours o' his are gaun to be his ruin. He's getting far ower muckle in favour wi' the grit fo'k.”
”I wonder to hear ye speak that gate,” said Gideon Pott of Bilhope: ”I think it be true that the country says, that ye maun aye read a Laidlaw backward. What can contribute sae muckle to advance a gentleman and his friends as to be in favour with the great?”
”I am a wee inclined to be of Laidlaw's opinion,” said Peter Oliver of the Langburnsheils, (for these three were the headsmen of the three names marshalled under Sir Charles,)--”Sudden rise, sudden fa'; that was a saying o' my grandfather's, and he was very seldom in the wrong.
I wadna wonder a bit to see our new knight get his head choppit off; for I think, if he haud on as he is like to do, he'll soon be ower grit wi' the Queen. Fo'k should bow to the bush they get bield frae, but take care o' lying ower near the laiggens o't. That was a saying o' my grandfather's aince when they want.i.t him to visit at the castle of Mountcomyn.”
”There is he to the gate now,” said Laidlaw, ”and left his men, his bread-winners, in the very mids o' their lessons; and as sure as we saw it, some o' thae imps will hae his simple honest head into Hoy's net wi' some o' thae braw women. Wha wins at their hands will lose at naething. I never bodit ony good for my part o' the gowden cuishes and the gorget, and the three walloping tod tails. Mere eel-baits for catching herons!”
”Ay weel I wat that's little short of a billyblinder, lad!” said Peter Oliver; ”I trow I may say to you as my grandfather said to the ghost, 'Ay, ay, Billy Baneless, 'an a' tales be true, yours is nae lie,' quo'
he; and he was a right auldfarrant man.”
But as this talk was going on among the borderers, Sir Charles, as before said, was introduced into a private chamber, where sat no less a dame than the officious and important lady of all close secrets, Mistress Mary Kirkmichael of Balmedie, who rose and made three low courtesies, and then with an affected faultering tongue and downcast look, addressed Sir Charles as follows: ”Most n.o.ble and gallant knight,--hem--Pardon a modest and diffident maiden, sir knight!--pink of all chivalry and hero of the Border: I say be so generous as to forgive the zeal of a blus.h.i.+ng virgin for thus presuming to interrupt your warrior avocations.--(Sir Charles bowed.)--But, O knight--hem--there is a plot laying, or laid against your freedom.
Pray may I take the liberty to ask, Are you free of any love engagement?”
”Perfectly so, madam, at--hem!----”
”At my service. Come that is so far well. You could not then possibly have any objections to a young lady of twenty-one or thereby, n.o.bly descended, heir to seven ploughgates of land, and five half-davochs, and most violently in love with you.”
”I maun see her first, and hear her speak,” said the knight, ”and ken what blood and what name; and whether she be Scots or English.”
”Suppose that you _have_ seen her and heard her speak,” said the dame; ”and suppose she was of Fife blood; and that her name was _lady_ Mary Kirkmichael: What would you then say against her?”
”Nothing at all, madam,” said Sir Charles, bowing extremely low.
”Do you then consent to accept of such a one for your lady?”
”How can I possibly tell? Let me see her.”
”O Sir Charles! gallant and generous knight! do not force a young blus.h.i.+ng virgin to disclose what she would gladly conceal. You _do_ see her, Sir Charles! You _do_ see her and hear her speak too. Nay, you see her kneeling at your feet, brave and generous knight! You see her _tears_ and you hear her _weep_,--and what hero can withstand that? Oh Sir Charles!--
”Hout, hout, hout!” cried Sir Charles interrupting her, and raising her gently with both hands, ”Hout, hout, hout! for heaven's sake behave yoursel, and dinna flee away wi' the joke athegither, sweet lady. Ye may be very weel, and ye are very weel for ought that I see, but troth ye ken a man maun do ae thing afore another, and a woman too. Ye deserve muckle better than the likes o' me, but I dinna incline marriage; and mair than that, I hae nae time to spare.”
”Ah, Sir Charles, you should not be so cruel. You should think better of the fair s.e.x, Sir Charles! Look at this face. What objections have you to it, Sir Charles?”
”The face is weel enough, but it will maybe change. The last blooming face that took me in turned put a very different article the next day.
Ah, lady! Ye little ken what I hae suffered by women and witchcraft, or ye wadna bid me think weel o' them.”
”Well, knight, since I cannot melt your heart, I must tell you that there is a plot against your liberty, and you will be a married man before to morrow's night. It is a grand plot, and I am convinced it is made solely to entrap you to marry an English heiress that is a captive here, who is fallen so deeply in love with you that, if she does not attain you for her lover and husband, her heart will break. She has made her case known to the Queen, and I have come by it: therefore, sir knight, as you value my life, keep this a _profound_ secret. I thought it a pity not to keep you out of English connections; therefore I sent for you privily to offer you my own hand, and then you could get off on the score of engagement.”