by Walter Scott
CHAPTER LXIV
COMPARING OF NOTES
Thearon's story was short, when divested of the adages andcommonplaces, Latin, English, and Scotch, with which his eruditiongarnished it. He insisted much upon his grief at the loss ofEdward and of Glennaquoich, fought the fields of Falkirk andCulloden, and related how, after all was lost in the last battle,he had returned home, under the idea of more easily findingshelter among his own tenants and on his own estate thanelsewhere. A party of soldiers had been sent to lay waste hisproperty, for clemency was not the order of the day. Theirproceedings, however, were checked by an order from the civilcourt. The estate, it was found, might not be forfeited to thecrown to the prejudice of Malcolm Bradwardine of Inch-Grabbit, theheir-male, whose claim could not be prejudiced by the Baron'sattainder, as deriving no right through him, and who, therefore,like other heirs of entail in the same situation, entered uponpossession. But, unlike many in similar circumstances, the newlaird speedily showed that he intended utterly to exclude hispredecessor from all benefit or advantage in the estate, and thatit was his purpose to avail himself of the old Baron's evilfortune to the full extent. This was the more ungenerous, as itwas generally known that, from a romantic idea of not prejudicingthis young man's right as heir-male, the Baron had refrained fromsettling his estate on his daughter.
This selfish injustice was resented by the country people, whowere partial to their old master, and irritated against hissuccessor. In the Baron's own words, 'The matter did not coincidewith the feelings of the commons of Bradwardine, Mr. Waverley; andthe tenants were slack and repugnant in payment of their mails andduties; and when my kinsman came to the village wi' the newfactor, Mr. James Howie, to lift the rents, some wanchancy person--I suspect John Heatherblutter, the auld gamekeeper, that was outwi' me in the year fifteen--fired a shot at him in the gloaming,whereby he was so affrighted, that I may say with Tullius InCatilinam, "Abiit, evasit, erupit, effugit." He fled, sir, as onemay say, incontinent to Stirling. And now he hath advertised theestate for sale, being himself the last substitute in the entail.And if I were to lament about sic matters, this would grieve memair than its passing from my immediate possession, whilk, by thecourse of nature, must have happened in a few years; whereas nowit passes from the lineage that should have possessed it inscecula saculorum. But God's will be done, humana perpessi sumus.Sir John of Bradwardine--Black Sir John, as he is called--who wasthe common ancestor of our house and the Inch-Grabbits, littlethought such a person would have sprung from his loins. Mean time,he has accused me to some of the primates, the rulers for thetime, as if I were a cut-throat, and an abettor of bravoes andassassinates and coupe-jarrets. And they have sent soldiers hereto abide on the estate, and hunt me like a partridge upon themountains, as Scripture says of good King David, or like ourvaliant Sir William Wallace--not that I bring myself intocomparison with either. I thought, when I heard you at the door,they had driven the auld deer to his den at last; and so I e'enproposed to die at bay, like a buck of the first head. But now,Janet, canna ye gie us something for supper?' 'Ou ay, sir, I'llbrander the moor-fowl that John Heatherblutter brought in thismorning; and ye see puir Davie's roasting the black hen's eggs. Idaur say, Mr. Wauverley, ye never kend that a' the eggs that weresae weel roasted at supper in the Ha'-house were aye turned by ourDavie? there's no the like o' him ony gate for powtering wi' hisfingers amang the het peat-ashes and roasting eggs.' Davie allthis while lay with his nose almost in the fire, nuzzling amongthe ashes, kicking his heels, mumbling to himself, turning theeggs as they lay in the hot embers, as if to confute the proverb,that 'there goes reason to roasting of eggs,' and justify theeulogium which poor Janet poured out upon
Him whom she loved, her idiot boy.
'Davie's no sae silly as folk tak him for, Mr. Wauverley; he wadnahae brought you here unless he had kend ye was a friend to hisHonour; indeed the very dogs kend ye, Mr. Wauverley, for ye wasaye kind to beast and body. I can tell you a story o' Davie, wi'his Honour's leave. His Honour, ye see, being under hiding in thaesair times--the mair's the pity--he lies a' day, and whiles a'night, in the cove in the dern hag; but though it's a bieldyeneugh bit, and the auld gudeman o' Corse-Cleugh has panged it wi'a kemple o' strae amaist, yet when the country's quiet, and thenight very cauld, his Honour whiles creeps doun here to get a warmat the ingle and a sleep amang the blankets, and gangs awa in themorning. And so, ae morning, siccan a fright as I got! Twa unluckyred-coats were up for black-fishing, or some siccan ploy--for theneb o' them's never out o' mischief--and they just got a glisk o'his Honour as he gaed into the wood, and banged aff a gun at him.I out like a jer-falcon, and cried--"Wad they shoot an honestwoman's poor innocent bairn?" And I fleyt at them, and threepit itwas my son; and they damned and swuir at me that it was the auldrebel, as the villains ca'd his Honour; and Davie was in the wood,and heard the tuilzie, and he, just out o' his ain head, got upthe auld grey mantle that his Honour had flung off him to gang thefaster, and he cam out o' the very same bit o' the wood, majoringand looking about sae like his Honour, that they were cleanbeguiled, and thought they had letten aff their gun at crack-brained Sawney, as they ca' him; and they gae me saxpence, and twasaumon fish, to say naething about it. Na, na, Davie's no justlike other folk, puir fallow; but he's no sae silly as folk takhim for. But, to be sure, how can we do eneugh for his Honour,when we and ours have lived on his ground this twa hundred years;and when he keepit my puir Jamie at school and college, and evenat the Ha'-house, till he gaed to a better place; and when hesaved me frae being ta'en to Perth as a witch--Lord forgi'e themthat would touch sic a puir silly auld body!--and has maintainedpuir Davie at heck and manger maist feck o' his life?'
Waverley at length found an opportunity to interrupt Janet'snarrative by an inquiry after Miss Bradwardine.
'She's weel and safe, thank God! at the Duchran,' answered theBaron; 'the laird's distantly related to us, and more nearly to mychaplain, Mr. Rubrick; and, though he be of Whig principles, yethe's not forgetful of auld friendship at this time. The Bailie'sdoing what he can to save something out of the wreck for puirRose; but I doubt, I doubt, I shall never see her again, for Imaun lay my banes in some far country.'
'Hout na, your Honour,' said old Janet, 'ye were just as ill affin the feifteen, and got the bonnie baronie back, an' a'. And nowthe eggs is ready, and the muir-cock's brandered, and there's ilkane a trencher and some saut, and the heel o' the white loaf thatcam frae the Bailie's, and there's plenty o' brandy in thegreybeard that Luckie Maclearie sent doun, and winna ye besuppered like princes?'
'I wish one Prince, at least, of our acquaintance may be no worseoff,' said the Baron to Waverley, who joined him in cordial hopesfor the safety of the unfortunate Chevalier.
They then began to talk of their future prospects. The Baron'splan was very simple. It was, to escape to France, where, by theinterest of his old friends, he hoped to get some militaryemployment, of which he still conceived himself capable. Heinvited Waverley to go with him, a proposal in which heacquiesced, providing the interest of Colonel Talbot should failin procuring his pardon. Tacitly he hoped the Baron would sanctionhis addresses to Rose, and give him a right to assist him in hisexile; but he forbore to speak on this subject until his own fateshould be decided. They then talked of Glennaquoich, for whom theBaron expressed great anxiety, although, he observed, he was 'thevery Achilles of Horatius Flaccus,--
Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer; which,' he continued, 'hasbeen thus rendered (vernacularly) by Struan Robertson:--
A fiery etter-cap, a fractious chiel, As het as ginger, and as stieve as steel.'
Flora had a large and unqualified share of the good old man'ssympathy.
It was now wearing late. Old Janet got into some kind of kennelbehind the hallan; Davie had been long asleep and snoring betweenBan and Buscar. These dogs had followed him to the hut after themansion-house was deserted, and there constantly resided; andtheir ferocity, with the old woman's reputation of being a witch,contributed a good deal to keep
visitors from the glen. With thisview, Bailie Macwheeble provided Janet underhand with meal fortheir maintenance, and also with little articles of luxury for hispatron's use, in supplying which much precaution was necessarilyused. After some compliments, the Baron occupied his usual couch,and Waverley reclined in an easy chair of tattered velvet, whichhad once garnished the state bed-room of Tully-Veolan (for thefurniture of this mansion was now scattered through all thecottages in the vicinity), and went to sleep as comfortably as ifhe had been in a bed of down.