by Walter Scott
CHAPTER SECOND
'Tis the voice of the sluggard, I've heard him complain, "You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again;" As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed, Turns his side, and his shoulders, and his heavy head. Dr. Watts.
The mansion-house of Dumbiedikes, to which we are now to introduce ourreaders, lay three or four miles--no matter for the exact topography--tothe southward of St. Leonard's. It had once borne the appearance of somelittle celebrity; for the "auld laird," whose humours and pranks wereoften mentioned in the ale-houses for about a mile round it, wore asword, kept a good horse, and a brace of greyhounds; brawled, swore, andbetted at cock-fights and horse-matches; followed Somerville of Drum'shawks, and the Lord Ross's hounds, and called himself _point devise_ agentleman. But the line had been veiled of its splendour in the presentproprietor, who cared for no rustic amusements, and was as saying, timid,and retired, as his father had been at once grasping and selfishlyextravagant--daring, wild, and intrusive.
Dumbiedikes was what is called in Scotland a single house; that is,having only one room occupying its whole depth from back to front, eachof which single apartments was illuminated by six or eight cross lights,whose diminutive panes and heavy frames permitted scarce so much light toenter as shines through one well-constructed modern window. Thisinartificial edifice, exactly such as a child would build with cards, hada steep roof flagged with coarse grey stones instead of slates; ahalf-circular turret, battlemented, or, to use the appropriate phrase,bartizan'd on the top, served as a case for a narrow turnpike stair, bywhich an ascent was gained from storey to storey; and at the bottom ofthe said turret was a door studded with large-headed nails. There was nolobby at the bottom of the tower, and scarce a landing-place opposite tothe doors which gave access to the apartments. One or two low anddilapidated outhouses, connected by a courtyard wall equally ruinous,surrounded the mansion. The court had been paved, but the flags beingpartly displaced and partly renewed, a gallant crop of docks and thistlessprung up between them, and the small garden, which opened by a posternthrough the wall, seemed not to be in a much more orderly condition. Overthe low-arched gateway which led into the yard there was a carved stone,exhibiting some attempt at armorial bearings; and above the innerentrance hung, and had hung, for many years, the mouldering hatchment,which announced that umquhile Laurence Dumbie of Dumbiedikes had beengathered to his fathers in Newbattle kirkyard. The approach to thispalace of pleasure was by a road formed by the rude fragments of stonegathered from the fields, and it was surrounded by ploughed, butunenclosed land. Upon a baulk, that is, an unploughed ridge of landinterposed among the corn, the Laird's trusty palfrey was tethered by thehead, and picking a meal of grass. The whole argued neglect anddiscomfort; the consequence, however, of idleness and indifference, notof poverty.
In this inner court, not without a sense of bashfulness and timidity,stood Jeanie Deans, at an early hour in a fine spring morning. She was noheroine of romance, and therefore looked with some curiosity and intereston the mansion-house and domains, of which, it might at that moment occurto her, a little encouragement, such as women of all ranks know byinstinct how to apply, might have made her mistress. Moreover, she was noperson of taste beyond her time, rank, and country, and certainly thoughtthe house of Dumbiedikes, though inferior to Holyrood House, or thepalace at Dalkeith, was still a stately structure in its way, and theland a "very bonny bit, if it were better seen to and done to." ButJeanie Deans was a plain, true-hearted, honest girl, who, while sheacknowledged all the splendour of her old admirer's habitation, and thevalue of his property, never for a moment harboured a thought of doingthe Laird, Butler, or herself, the injustice, which many ladies of higherrank would not have hesitated to do to all three on much less temptation.
Her present errand being with the Laird, she looked round the offices tosee if she could find any domestic to announce that she wished to seehim. As all was silence, she ventured to open one door--it was the oldLaird's dog-kennel, now deserted, unless when occupied, as one or twotubs seemed to testify, as a washing-house. She tried another--it was therootless shed where the hawks had been once kept, as appeared from aperch or two not yet completely rotten, and a lure and jesses which weremouldering on the wall. A third door led to the coal-house, which waswell stocked. To keep a very good fire was one of the few points ofdomestic management in which Dumbiedikes was positively active; in allother matters of domestic economy he was completely passive, and at themercy of his housekeeper--the same buxom dame whom his father had longsince bequeathed to his charge, and who, if fame did her no injustice,had feathered her nest pretty well at his expense.
Jeanie went on opening doors, like the second Calender wanting an eye, inthe castle of the hundred obliging damsels, until, like the said princeerrant, she came to a stable. The Highland Pegasus, Rory Bean, to whichbelonged the single entire stall, was her old acquaintance, whom she hadseen grazing on the baulk, as she failed not to recognise by thewell-known ancient riding furniture and demi-pique saddle, which halfhung on the walls, half trailed on the litter. Beyond the "treviss,"which formed one side of the stall, stood a cow, who turned her head andlowed when Jeanie came into the stable, an appeal which her habitualoccupations enabled her perfectly to understand, and with which she couldnot refuse complying, by shaking down some fodder to the animal, whichhad been neglected like most things else in the castle of the sluggard.
While she was accommodating "the milky mother" with the food which sheshould have received two hours sooner, a slipshod wench peeped into thestable, and perceiving that a stranger was employed in discharging thetask which she, at length, and reluctantly, had quitted her slumbers toperform, ejaculated,
"Eh, sirs! the Brownie! the Brownie!" and fled, yelling as if she hadseen the devil.
To explain her terror it may be necessary to notice that the old house ofDumbiedikes had, according to report, been long haunted by a Brownie, oneof those familiar spirits who were believed in ancient times to supplythe deficiencies of the ordinary labourer--
Whirl the long mop, and ply the airy flail.
Certes, the convenience of such a supernatural assistance could have beennowhere more sensibly felt than in a family where the domestics were solittle disposed to personal activity; yet this serving maiden was so farfrom rejoicing in seeing a supposed aerial substitute discharging a taskwhich she should have long since performed herself, that she proceeded toraise the family by her screams of horror, uttered as thick as if theBrownie had been flaying her. Jeanie, who had immediately resigned hertemporary occupation, and followed the yelling damsel into the courtyard,in order to undeceive and appease her, was there met by Mrs. JanetBalchristie, the favourite sultana of the last Laird, as scandalwent--the housekeeper of the present. The good-looking buxom woman,betwixt forty and fifty (for such we described her at the death of thelast Laird), was now a fat, red-faced, old dame of seventy, orthereabouts, fond of her place, and jealous of her authority. Consciousthat her administration did not rest on so sure a basis as in the timeof the old proprietor, this considerate lady had introduced into thefamily the screamer aforesaid, who added good features and bright eyesto the powers of her lungs. She made no conquest of the Laird, however,who seemed to live as if there was not another woman in the world butJeanie Deans, and to bear no very ardent or overbearing affection evento her. Mrs. Janet Balchristie, notwithstanding, had her own uneasythoughts upon the almost daily visits to St. Leonard's Crags, and often,when the Laird looked at her wistfully and paused, according to hiscustom before utterance, she expected him to say, "Jenny, I am gaun tochange my condition;" but she was relieved by, "Jenny, I am gaun tochange my shoon."
Still, however, Mrs. Balchristie regarded Jeanie Deans with no smallportion of malevolence, the customary feeling of such persons towardsanyone who they think has the means of doing them an injury. But she hadalso a general aversion to any female tolerably young, and decentlywell-looking, w
ho showed a wish to approach the house of Dumbiedikes andthe proprietor thereof. And as she had raised her mass of mortality outof bed two hours earlier than usual, to come to the rescue of herclamorous niece, she was in such extreme bad humour against all andsundry, that Saddletree would have pronounced that she harboured_inimicitiam contra omnes mortales._
"Wha the deil are ye?" said the fat dame to poor Jeanie, whom she did notimmediately recognise, "scouping about a decent house at sic an hour inthe morning?"
"It was ane wanting to speak to the Laird," said Jeanie, who feltsomething of the intuitive terror which she had formerly entertained forthis termagant, when she was occasionally at Dumbiedikes on business ofher father's.
"Ane!--And what sort of ane are ye!--hae ye nae name?--D'ye think hishonour has naething else to do than to speak wi' ilka idle tramper thatcomes about the town, and him in his bed yet, honest man?"
"Dear Mrs. Balchristie," replied Jeanie, in a submissive tone, "d'ye nomind me?--d'ye no mind Jeanie Deans?"
"Jeanie Deans!" said the termagant, in accents affecting the utmostastonishment; then, taking two strides nearer to her, she peered into herface with a stare of curiosity, equally scornful and malignant--"I sayJeanie Deans indeed--Jeanie Deevil, they had better hae ca'ed ye!--Abonny spot o' wark your tittie and you hae made out, murdering ae puirwean, and your light limmer of a sister's to be hanged for't, as weel shedeserves!--And the like o' you to come to ony honest man's house, andwant to be into a decent bachelor gentleman's room at this time in themorning, and him in his bed!--Gae wa', gae wa'!"
Jeanie was struck mute with shame at the unfeeling brutality of thisaccusation, and could not even find words to justify herself from thevile construction put upon her visit. When Mrs. Balchristie, seeing heradvantage, continued in the same tone, "Come, come, bundle up your pipesand tramp awa wi' ye!--ye may be seeking a father to another wean for onything I ken. If it warna that your father, auld David Deans, had been atenant on our land, I would cry up the men-folk, and hae ye dookit in theburn for your impudence."
Jeanie had already turned her back, and was walking towards the door ofthe court-yard, so that Mrs. Balchristie, to make her last threatimpressively audible to her, had raised her stentorian voice to itsutmost pitch. But, like many a general, she lost the engagement bypressing her advantage too far.
The Laird had been disturbed in his morning slumbers by the tones of Mrs.Balchristie's objurgation, sounds in themselves by no means uncommon, butvery remarkable, in respect to the early hour at which they were nowheard. He turned himself on the other side, however, in hopes the squallwould blow by, when, in the course of Mrs. Balchristie's second explosionof wrath, the name of Deans distinctly struck the tympanum of his ear. Ashe was, in some degree, aware of the small portion of benevolence withwhich his housekeeper regarded the family at St. Leonard's, he instantlyconceived that some message from thence was the cause of this untimelyire, and getting out of his bed, he slipt as speedily as possible into anold brocaded night-gown, and some other necessary garments, clapped onhis head his father's gold-laced hat (for though he was seldom seenwithout it, yet it is proper to contradict the popular report that heslept in it, as Don Quixote did in his helmet), and opening the window ofhis bedroom, beheld, to his great astonishment, the well-known figure ofJeanie Deans herself retreating from his gate; while his housekeeper,with arms a-kimbo, fist clenched and extended, body erect, and headshaking with rage, sent after her a volley of Billingsgate oaths. Hischoler rose in proportion to the surprise, and, perhaps, to thedisturbance of his repose. "Hark ye," he exclaimed from the window, "yeauld limb of Satan--wha the deil gies you commission to guide an honestman's daughter that gate?"
Mrs. Balchristie was completely caught in the manner. She was aware, fromthe unusual warmth with which the Laird expressed himself, that he wasquite serious in this matter, and she knew, that with all his indolenceof nature, there were points on which he might be provoked, and that,being provoked, he had in him something dangerous, which her wisdomtaught her to fear accordingly. She began, therefore, to retract herfalse step as fast as she could. "She was but speaking for the house'scredit, and she couldna think of disturbing his honour in the morning saeearly, when the young woman might as weel wait or call again; and to besure, she might make a mistake between the twa sisters, for ane o' themwasna sae creditable an acquaintance."
"Haud your peace, ye auld jade," said Dumbiedikes; "the warst quean e'erstude in their shoon may ca' you cousin, an a' be true that I haveheard.--Jeanie, my woman, gang into the parlour--but stay, that winna beredd up yet--wait there a minute till I come down to let ye in--Dinnamind what Jenny says to ye."
"Na, na," said Jenny, with a laugh of affected heartiness, "never mindme, lass--a' the warld kens my bark's waur than my bite--if ye had had anappointment wi' the Laird, ye might hae tauld me--I am nae uncivilperson--gang your ways in by, hinny," and she opened the door of thehouse with a master-key.
"But I had no appointment wi' the Laird," said Jeanie, drawing back; "Iwant just to speak twa words to him, and I wad rather do it standinghere, Mrs. Balchristie."
"In the open court-yard!--Na, na, that wad never do, lass; we mauna guideye that gate neither--And how's that douce honest man, your father?"
Jeanie was saved the pain of answering this hypocritical question by theappearance of the Laird himself.
"Gang in and get breakfast ready," said he to his housekeeper--"and, d'yehear, breakfast wi' us yoursell--ye ken how to manage thae porringers oftea-water--and, hear ye, see abune a' that there's a gude fire.--Weel,Jeanie, my woman, gang in by--gang in by, and rest ye."
"Na, Laird," Jeanie replied, endeavouring as much as she could to expressherself with composure, notwithstanding she still trembled, "I canna gangin--I have a lang day's darg afore me--I maun be twenty mile o' gate thenight yet, if feet will carry me."
"Guide and deliver us!--twenty mile--twenty mile on your feet!"ejaculated Dumbiedikes, whose walks were of a very circumscribeddiameter,--"Ye maun never think o' that--come in by."
"I canna do that, Laird," replied Jeanie; "the twa words I have to say toye I can say here; forby that Mrs. Balchristie."
"The deil flee awa wi' Mrs. Balchristie," said Dumbiedikes, "and he'llhae a heavy lading o' her! I tell ye, Jeanie Deans, I am a man of fewwords, but I am laird at hame, as well as in the field; deil a brute orbody about my house but I can manage when I like, except Rory Bean, mypowny; but I can seldom be at the plague, an it binna when my bluid'sup."
"I was wanting to say to ye, Laird," said Jeanie, who felt the necessityof entering upon her business, "that I was gaun a lang journey, outby ofmy father's knowledge."
"Outby his knowledge, Jeanie!--Is that right? Ye maun think otagain--it's no right," said Dumbiedikes, with a countenance of greatconcern.
"If I were ance at Lunnon," said Jeanie, in exculpation, "I am amaistsure I could get means to speak to the queen about my sister's life."
"Lunnon--and the queen--and her sister's life!" said Dumbiedikes,whistling for very amazement--"the lassie's demented."
"I am no out o' my mind," said she, "and sink or swim, I am determined togang to Lunnon, if I suld beg my way frae door to door--and so I maun,unless ye wad lend me a small sum to pay my expenses--little thing willdo it; and ye ken my father's a man of substance, and wad see nae man,far less you, Laird, come to loss by me."
Dumbiedikes, on comprehending the nature of this application, couldscarce trust his ears--he made no answer whatever, but stood with hiseyes rivetted on the ground.
"I see ye are no for assisting me, Laird," said Jeanie, "sae fare yeweel--and gang and see my poor father as aften as ye can--he will belonely eneugh now."
"Where is the silly bairn gaun?" said Dumbiedikes; and, laying hold ofher hand, he led her into the house. "It's no that I didna think o'tbefore," he said, "but it stack in my throat."
Thus speaking to himself, he led her into an old-fashioned parlour, shutthe door behind them, and fastened it with a bolt. While Jeanie,sur
prised at this manoeuvre, remained as near the door as possible, theLaird quitted her hand, and pressed upon a spring lock fixed in an oakpanel in the wainscot, which instantly slipped aside. An iron strong-boxwas discovered in a recess of the wall; he opened this also, and pullingout two or three drawers, showed that they were filled with leathern bagsfull of gold and silver coin.
"This is my bank, Jeanie lass," he said, looking first at her and then atthe treasure, with an air of great complacency,--"nane o' yourgoldsmith's bills for me,--they bring folk to ruin."
Then, suddenly changing his tone, he resolutely said,--"Jeanie, I willmake ye Lady Dumbiedikes afore the sun sets and ye may ride to Lunnon inyour ain coach, if ye like."
"Na, Laird," said Jeanie, "that can never be--my father's grief--mysister's situation--the discredit to you--"
"That's _my_ business," said Dumbiedikes; "ye wad say naething about thatif ye werena a fule--and yet I like ye the better for't--ae wise body'seneugh in the married state. But if your heart's ower fu', take whatsiller will serve ye, and let it be when ye come back again--as gude syneas sune."
"But, Laird," said Jeanie, who felt the necessity of being explicit withso extraordinary a lover, "I like another man better than you, and Icanna marry ye."
"Another man better than me, Jeanie!" said Dumbiedikes; "how is thatpossible? It's no possible, woman--ye hae ken'd me sae lang."
"Ay but, Laird," said Jeanie, with persevering simplicity, "I hae ken'dhim langer."
"Langer! It's no possible!" exclaimed the poor Laird. "It canna be; yewere born on the land. O Jeanie woman, ye haena lookit--ye haena seen thehalf o' the gear." He drew out another drawer--"A' gowd, Jeanie, andthere's bands for siller lent--And the rental book, Jeanie--clear threehunder sterling--deil a wadset, heritable band, or burden--Ye haenalookit at them, woman--And then my mother's wardrobe, and mygrandmother's forby--silk gowns wad stand on their ends, theirpearline-lace as fine as spiders' webs, and rings and ear-rings to theboot of a' that--they are a' in the chamber of deas--Oh, Jeanie, gang upthe stair and look at them!"
Jeanie and the Laird of Dumbiedykes--Frontispiece]
But Jeanie held fast her integrity, though beset with temptations, whichperhaps the Laird of Dumbiedikes did not greatly err in supposing werethose most affecting to her sex.
"It canna be, Laird--I have said it--and I canna break my word till him,if ye wad gie me the haill barony of Dalkeith, and Lugton into thebargain."
"Your word to _him,_" said the Laird, somewhat pettishly; "but wha is he,Jeanie?--wha is he?--I haena heard his name yet--Come now, Jeanie, ye arebut queering us--I am no trowing that there is sic a ane in the warld--yeare but making fashion--What is he?--wha is he?"
"Just Reuben Butler, that's schulemaster at Liberton," said Jeanie.
"Reuben Butler! Reuben Butler!" echoed the Laird of Dumbiedikes, pacingthe apartment in high disdain,--"Reuben Butler, the dominie atLiberton--and a dominie depute too!--Reuben, the son of my cottar!--Veryweel, Jeanie lass, wilfu' woman will hae her way--Reuben Butler! hehasna in his pouch the value o' the auld black coat he wears--But itdisna signify." And as he spoke, he shut successively and with vehemencethe drawers of his treasury. "A fair offer, Jeanie, is nae cause offeud--Ae man may bring a horse to the water, but twenty winna gar himdrink--And as for wasting my substance on other folk's joes--"
There was something in the last hint that nettled Jeanie's honest pride.--"I was begging nane frae your honour," she said; "least of a' on sic ascore as ye pit it on.--Gude morning to ye, sir; ye hae been kind to myfather, and it isna in my heart to think otherwise than kindly of you."
So saying, she left the room without listening to a faint "But,Jeanie--Jeanie--stay, woman!" and traversing the courtyard with a quickstep, she set out on her forward journey, her bosom glowing with thatnatural indignation and shame, which an honest mind feels at havingsubjected itself to ask a favour, which had been unexpectedly refused.When out of the Laird's ground, and once more upon the public road, herpace slackened, her anger cooled, and anxious anticipations of theconsequence of this unexpected disappointment began to influence herwith other feelings. Must she then actually beg her way to London? forsuch seemed the alternative; or must she turn back, and solicit herfather for money? and by doing so lose time, which was precious, besidesthe risk of encountering his positive prohibition respecting thejourney! Yet she saw no medium between these alternatives; and, whileshe walked slowly on, was still meditating whether it were not better toreturn.
While she was thus in an uncertainty, she heard the clatter of a horse'shoofs, and a well-known voice calling her name. She looked round, and sawadvancing towards her on a pony, whose bare back and halter assorted illwith the nightgown, slippers, and laced cocked-hat of the rider, acavalier of no less importance than Dumbiedikes himself. In the energy ofhis pursuit, he had overcome even the Highland obstinacy of Rory Bean,and compelled that self-willed palfrey to canter the way his rider chose;which Rory, however, performed with all the symptoms of reluctance,turning his head, and accompanying every bound he made in advance with asidelong motion, which indicated his extreme wish to turn round,--amanoeuvre which nothing but the constant exercise of the Laird's heelsand cudgel could possibly have counteracted.
When the Laird came up with Jeanie, the first words he utteredwere,--"Jeanie, they say ane shouldna aye take a woman at her firstword?"
"Ay, but ye maun take me at mine, Laird," said Jeanie, looking on theground, and walking on without a pause.--"I hae but ae word to bestow onony body, and that's aye a true ane."
"Then," said Dumbiedikes, "at least ye suldna aye take a man at _his_first word. Ye maunna gang this wilfu' gate sillerless, come o't whatlike."--He put a purse into her hand. "I wad gie you Rory too, but he'sas wilfu' as yoursell, and he's ower weel used to a gate that maybe heand I hae gaen ower aften, and he'll gang nae road else."
"But, Laird," said Jeanie, "though I ken my father will satisfy everypenny of this siller, whatever there's o't, yet I wadna like to borrow itfrae ane that maybe thinks of something mair than the paying o't backagain."
"There's just twenty-five guineas o't," said Dumbiedikes, with a gentlesigh, "and whether your father pays or disna pay, I make ye free till'twithout another word. Gang where ye like--do what ye like--and marry a'the Butlers in the country gin ye like--And sae, gude morning to you,Jeanie."
"And God bless you, Laird, wi' mony a gude morning!" said Jeanie, herheart more softened by the unwonted generosity of this uncouth character,than perhaps Butler might have approved, had he known her feelings atthat moment; "and comfort, and the Lord's peace, and the peace of theworld, be with you, if we suld never meet again!"
Dumbiedikes turned and waved his hand; and his pony, much more willing toreturn than he had been to set out, hurried him homeward so fast, that,wanting the aid of a regular bridle, as well as of saddle and stirrups,he was too much puzzled to keep his seat to permit of his looking behind,even to give the parting glance of a forlorn swain. I am ashamed to say,that the sight of a lover, ran away with in nightgown and slippers and alaced hat, by a bare-backed Highland pony, had something in it of asedative, even to a grateful and deserved burst of affectionate esteem.The figure of Dumbiedikes was too ludicrous not to confirm Jeanie in theoriginal sentiments she entertained towards him.
"He's a gude creature," said she, "and a kind--it's a pity he has saewillyard a powny." And she immediately turned her thoughts to theimportant journey which she had commenced, reflecting with pleasure,that, according to her habits of life and of undergoing fatigue, she wasnow amply or even superfluously provided with the means of encounteringthe expenses of the road, up and down from London, and all other expenseswhatever.