by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XXI.
Then out and spake the auld mother, And fast her tears did fa "Ye wadna be warn'd, my son Johnie, Frae the hunting to bide awa!" Old Ballad.
When he entered the cottage, Morton perceived that the old hostess hadspoken truth. The inside of the hut belied its outward appearance, andwas neat, and even comfortable, especially the inner apartment, in whichthe hostess informed her guest that he was to sup and sleep. Refreshmentswere placed before him such as the little inn afforded; and though he hadsmall occasion for them, he accepted the offer, as the means ofmaintaining some discourse with the landlady. Notwithstanding herblindness, she was assiduous in her attendance, and seemed, by a sort ofinstinct, to find her way to what she wanted.
"Have you no one but this pretty little girl to assist you in waiting onyour guests?" was the natural question.
"None, sir," replied his old hostess; "I dwell alone, like the widow ofZarephath. Few guests come to this puir place, and I haena custom eneughto hire servants. I had anes twa fine sons that lookit after a' thing.--But God gives and takes away,--His name be praised!" she continued,turning her clouded eyes towards Heaven.--"I was anes better off, thatis, waridly speaking, even since I lost them; but that was before thislast change."
"Indeed!" said Morton; "and yet you are a Presbyterian, my good mother?"
"I am, sir; praised be the light that showed me the right way," repliedthe landlady.
"Then I should have thought," continued the guest, "the Revolution wouldhave brought you nothing but good."
"If," said the old woman, "it has brought the land gude, and freedom ofworship to tender consciences, it's little matter what it has brought toa puir blind worm like me."
"Still," replied Morton, "I cannot see how it could possibly injure you."
"It's a lang story, sir," answered his hostess, with a sigh. "But aenight, sax weeks or thereby afore Bothwell Brigg, a young gentlemanstopped at this puir cottage, stiff and bloody with wounds, pale and duneout wi' riding, and his horse sae weary he couldna drag ae foot after theother, and his foes were close ahint him, and he was ane o' our enemies.What could I do, sir? You that's a sodger will think me but a silly auldwife; but I fed him, and relieved him, and keepit him hidden till thepursuit was ower."
"And who," said Morton, "dares disapprove of your having done so?"
"I kenna," answered the blind woman; "I gat ill-will about it amang someo' our ain folk. They said I should hae been to him what Jael was toSisera. But weel I wot I had nae divine command to shed blood, and tosave it was baith like a woman and a Christian. And then they said Iwanted natural affection, to relieve ane that belanged to the band thatmurdered my twa sons."
"That murdered your two sons?"
"Ay, sir; though maybe ye'll gie their deaths another name. The tane fellwi' sword in hand, fighting for a broken national Covenant; thetother,--oh, they took him and shot him dead on the green before hismother's face! My auld een dazzled when the shots were looten off, and,to my thought, they waxed weaker and weaker ever since that weary day;and sorrow, and heart-break, and tears that would not be dried, mighthelp on the disorder. But, alas! betraying Lord Evandale's young bloodto his enemies' sword wad ne'er hae brought my Ninian and Johnie aliveagain."
"Lord Evandale?" said Morton, in surprise. "Was it Lord Evandale whoselife you saved?"
"In troth, even his," she replied. "And kind he was to me after, and gaeme a cow and calf, malt, meal, and siller, and nane durst steer me whenhe was in power. But we live on an outside bit of Tillietudlem land, andthe estate was sair plea'd between Leddy Margaret Bellenden and thepresent laird, Basil Olifant, and Lord Evandale backed the auld leddy forlove o' her daughter Miss Edith, as the country said, ane o' the best andbonniest lassies in Scotland. But they behuved to gie way, and Basil gatthe Castle and land, and on the back o' that came the Revolution, and whato turn coat faster than the laird? for he said he had been a true Whiga' the time, and turned papist only for fashion's sake. And then he gotfavour, and Lord Evandale's head was under water; for he was ower proudand manfu' to bend to every blast o' wind, though mony a ane may ken asweel as me that be his ain principles as they might, he was nae illfriend to our folk when he could protect us, and far kinder than BasilOlifant, that aye keepit the cobble head doun the stream. But he was setby and ill looked on, and his word ne'er asked; and then Basil, wha's arevengefu' man, set himsell to vex him in a' shapes, and especially byoppressing and despoiling the auld blind widow, Bessie Maclure, thatsaved Lord Evandale's life, and that he was sae kind to. But he's mistaenif that's his end; for it will be lang or Lord Evandale hears a word fraeme about the selling my kye for rent or e'er it was due, or the puttingthe dragoons on me when the country's quiet, or onything else that willvex him,--I can bear my ain burden patiently, and warld's loss is theleast part o't."
Astonished and interested at this picture of patient, grateful, andhigh-minded resignation, Morton could not help bestowing an execrationupon the poor-spirited rascal who had taken such a dastardly course ofvengeance.
"Dinna curse him, sir," said the old woman; "I have heard a good man saythat a curse was like a stone flung up to the heavens, and maist like toreturn on the head that sent it. But if ye ken Lord Evandale, bid himlook to himsell, for I hear strange words pass atween the sodgers thatare lying here, and his name is often mentioned; and the tane o' them hasbeen twice up at Tillietudlem. He's a kind of favourite wi' the laird,though he was in former times ane o' the maist cruel oppressors ever radethrough a country (out-taken Sergeant Bothwell),--they ca' him Inglis."
"I have the deepest interest in Lord Evandale's safety," said Morton,"and you may depend on my finding some mode to apprise him of thesesuspicious circumstances. And, in return, my good friend, will youindulge me with another question? Do you know anything of Quintin Mackellof Irongray?"
"Do I know whom?" echoed the blind woman, in a tone of great surprise andalarm.
"Quintin Mackell of Irongray," repeated Morton. "Is there anything soalarming in the sound of that name?"
"Na, na," answered the woman, with hesitation; "but to hear him askedafter by a stranger and a sodger,--Gude protect us, what mischief isto come next!"
"None by my means, I assure you," said Morton; "the subject of my inquiryhas nothing to fear from me if, as I suppose, this Quintin Mackell is thesame with John Bal-----."
"Do not mention his name," said the widow, pressing his lips with herfingers. "I see you have his secret and his pass-word, and I'll be freewi' you. But, for God's sake, speak lound and low. In the name of Heaven,I trust ye seek him not to his hurt! Ye said ye were a sodger?"
"I said truly; but one he has nothing to fear from. I commanded a partyat Bothwell Bridge."
"Indeed?" said the woman. "And verily there is something in your voice Ican trust. Ye speak prompt and readily, and like an honest man."
"I trust I am so," said Morton.
"But nae displeasure to you, sir, in thae waefu' times," continued Mrs.Maclure, "the hand of brother is against brother, and he fears as micklealmaist frae this Government as e'er he did frae the auld persecutors."
"Indeed?" said Morton, in a tone of inquiry; "I was not aware of that. ButI am only just now returned from abroad."
"I'll tell ye," said the blind woman, first assuming an attitude oflistening that showed how effectually her powers of collectingintelligence had been transferred from the eye to the ear; for, insteadof casting a glance of circumspection around, she stooped her face, andturned her head slowly around, in such a manner as to insure that therewas not the slightest sound stirring in the neighbourhood, and thencontinued,--"I'll tell ye. Ye ken how he has laboured to raise up againthe Covenant, burned, broken, and buried in the hard hearts and selfishdevices of this stubborn people. Now, when he went to Holland, far fromthe countenance and thanks of the great, and the comfortable fellowshipof the godly, both whilk he was in right to expect, the Prince of
Orangewad show him no favour, and the ministers no godly communion. This washard to bide for ane that had suffered and done mickle,--ower mickle, itmay be; but why suld I be a judge? He came back to me and to the auldplace o' refuge that had often received him in his distresses, mairespecially before the great day of victory at Drumclog, for I sail ne'erforget how he was bending hither of a' nights in the year on that e'eningafter the play when young Milnwood wan the popinjay; but I warned him offfor that time."
"What!" exclaimed Morton, "it was you that sat in your red cloak by thehigh-road, and told him there was a lion in the path?"
"In the name of Heaven! wha are ye?" said the old woman, breaking off hernarrative in astonishment. "But be wha ye may," she continued, resumingit with tranquillity, "ye can ken naething waur o' me than that I haebeen willing to save the life o' friend and foe."
"I know no ill of you, Mrs. Maclure, and I mean no ill by you; I onlywished to show you that I know so much of this person's affairs that Imight be safely intrusted with the rest. Proceed, if you please, in yournarrative."
"There is a strange command in your voice," said the blind woman, "thoughits tones are sweet. I have little mair to say. The Stewarts hae beendethroned, and William and Mary reign in their stead; but nae mair wordof the Covenant than if it were a dead letter. They hae taen the indulgedclergy, and an Erastian General Assembly of the ante pure and triumphantKirk of Scotland, even into their very arms and bosoms. Our faithfu'champions o' the testimony agree e'en waur wi' this than wi' the opentyranny and apostasy of the persecuting times, for souls are hardened anddeadened, and the mouths of fasting multitudes are crammed wi' fizenlessbran instead of the sweet word in season; and mony an hungry, starvingcreature, when he sits down on a Sunday forenoon to get something thatmight warm him to the great work, has a dry clatter o' morality drivenabout his lugs, and--"
"In short," said Morton, desirous to stop a discussion which the good oldwoman, as enthusiastically attached to her religious profession as to theduties of humanity, might probably have indulged longer,--"In short, youare not disposed to acquiesce in this new government, and Burley is ofthe same opinion?"
"Many of our brethren, sir, are of belief we fought for the Covenant, andfasted and prayed and suffered for that grand national league, and now weare like neither to see nor hear tell of that which we suffered andfought and fasted and prayed for. And anes it was thought something mightbe made by bringing back the auld family on a new bargain and a newbottom, as, after a', when King James went awa, I understand the greatquarrel of the English against him was in behalf of seven unhallowedprelates; and sae, though ae part of our people were free to join wi' thepresent model, and levied an armed regiment under the Yerl of Angus, yetour honest friend, and others that stude up for purity of doctrine andfreedom of conscience, were determined to hear the breath o' theJacobites before they took part again them, fearing to fa' to the groundlike a wall built with unslaked mortar, or from sitting between twastools."
"They chose an odd quarter," said Morton, "from which to expect freedomof conscience and purity of doctrine."
"Oh, dear sir!" said the landlady, "the natural day-spring rises in theeast, but the spiritual dayspring may rise in the north, for what weblinded mortals ken."
"And Burley went to the north to seek it?" replied the guest.
"Truly ay, sir; and he saw Claver'se himsell, that they ca' Dundee now."
"What!" exclaimed Morton, in amazement; "I would have sworn that meetingwould have been the last of one of their lives."
"Na, na, sir; in troubled times, as I understand," said Mrs. Maclure,"there's sudden changes,--Montgomery and Ferguson and mony ane mair thatwere King James's greatest faes are on his side now. Claver'se spake ourfriend fair, and sent him to consult with Lord Evandale. But then therewas a break-off, for Lord Evandale wadna look at, hear, or speak wi' him;and now he's anes wud and aye waur, and roars for revenge again LordEvandale, and will hear nought of onything but burn and slay. And oh,thae starts o' passion! they unsettle his mind, and gie the Enemy sairadvantages."
"The enemy?" said Morton; "What enemy?"
"What enemy? Are ye acquainted familiarly wi' John Balfour o' Burley, anddinna ken that he has had sair and frequent combats to sustain againstthe Evil One? Did ye ever see him alone but the Bible was in his hand,and the drawn sword on his knee? Did ye never sleep in the same room wi'him, and hear him strive in his dreams with the delusions of Satan? Oh,ye ken little o' him if ye have seen him only in fair daylight; for naeman can put the face upon his doleful visits and strifes that he can do.I hae seen him, after sic a strife of agony, tremble that an infant mighthae held him, while the hair on his brow was drapping as fast as ever mypuir thatched roof did in a heavy rain." As she spoke, Morton began torecollect the appearance of Burley during his sleep in the hay-loft atMilnwood, the report of Cuddie that his senses had become impaired, andsome whispers current among the Cameronians, who boasted frequently ofBurley's soul-exercises and his strifes with the foul fiend,--whichseveral circumstances led him to conclude that this man himself was avictim to those delusions, though his mind, naturally acute and forcible,not only disguised his superstition from those in whose opinion it mighthave discredited his judgment, but by exerting such a force as is said tobe proper to those afflicted with epilepsy, could postpone the fits whichit occasioned until he was either freed from superintendence, orsurrounded by such as held him more highly on account of thesevisitations. It was natural to suppose, and could easily be inferred fromthe narrative of Mrs. Maclure, that disappointed ambition, wrecked hopes,and the downfall of the party which he had served with such desperatefidelity, were likely to aggravate enthusiasm into temporary insanity. Itwas, indeed, no uncommon circumstance in those singular times that menlike Sir Harry Vane, Harrison, Overton, and others, themselves slaves tothe wildest and most enthusiastic dreams, could, when mingling with theworld, conduct themselves not only with good sense in difficulties, andcourage in dangers, but with the most acute sagacity and determinedvalour. The subsequent part of Mrs. Maclure's information confirmedMorton in these impressions.
"In the grey of the morning," she said, "my little Peggy sail show ye thegate to him before the sodgers are up. But ye maun let his hour ofdanger, as he ca's it, be ower, afore ye venture on him in his place ofrefuge. Peggy will tell ye when to venture in. She kens his ways weel,for whiles she carries him some little helps that he canna dowithout to sustain life."
"And in what retreat, then," said Morton, "has this unfortunate personfound refuge?"
"An awsome place," answered the blind woman, "as ever living creaturetook refuge in; they ca it the Black Linn of Linklater. It's a dolefulplace, but he loves it abune a' others, because he has sae often been insafe hiding there; and it's my belief he prefers it to a tapestriedchamber and a down bed. But ye'll see 't. I hae seen it mysell mony a daysyne. I was a daft hempie lassie then, and little thought what was tocome o't.--Wad ye choose ony thing, sir, ere ye betake yoursell to yourrest, for ye maun stir wi' the first dawn o' the grey light?"
"Nothing more, my good mother," said Morton; and they parted for theevening.
Morton recommended himself to Heaven, threw himself on the bed, heard,between sleeping and waking, the trampling of the dragoon horses at theriders' return from their patrol, and then slept soundly after suchpainful agitation.