The Black Dwarf, Walter Scott [freda ebook reader TXT] 📗

ye, gentle or semple, laird or loon; it’s a’ ane to Simon.”

“Who is that rough-looking fellow?” said Sir Frederick Langley, “and what has he to do with the quarrels of gentlemen?”

“I’se be a lad frae the Hie Te’iot,” said Simon, “and I’se quarrel wi’ ony body I like, except the king, or the laird I live under.”

“Come,” said; Mareschal, “let us have no brawls.—Mr. Earnscliff; although we do not think alike in some things, I trust we may be opponents, even enemies, if fortune will have it so, without losing our respect for birth, fair-play, and each other. I believe you as innocent of this matter as I am myself; and I will pledge myself that my cousin Ellieslaw, as soon as the perplexity attending these sudden events has left his judgment to its free exercise, shall handsomely acknowledge the very important service you have this day rendered him.”

“To have served your cousin is a sufficient reward in itself—Good evening, gentlemen,” continued Earnscliff; “I see most of your party are already on their way to Ellieslaw.”

Then saluting Mareschal with courtesy, and the rest of the party with indifference, Earnscliff turned his horse and rode towards the Heugh-foot, to concert measures with Hobbie Elliot for farther researches after his bride, of whose restoration to her friends he was still ignorant.

“There he goes,” said Mareschal; “he is a fine, gallant young fellow, upon my soul; and yet I should like well to have a thrust with him on the green turf. I was reckoned at college nearly his equal with the foils, and I should like to try him at sharps.”

“In my opinion,” answered Sir Frederick Langley, “we have done very ill in having suffered him, and those men who are with him, to go off without taking away their arms; for the Whigs are very likely to draw to a head under such a sprightly young fellow as that.”

“For shame, Sir Frederick!” exclaimed Mareschal; “do you think that Ellieslaw could, in honour, consent to any violence being offered to Earnscliff; when he entered his bounds only to bring back his daughter? or, if he were to be of your opinion, do you think that I, and the rest of these gentlemen, would disgrace ourselves by assisting in such a transaction? No, no, fair play and auld Scotland for ever! When the sword is drawn, I will be as ready to use it as any man; but while it is in the sheath, let us behave like gentlemen and neighbours.”

Soon after this colloquy they reached the castle, when Ellieslaw, who had been arrived a few minutes before, met them in the court-yard.

“How is Miss Vere? and have you learned the cause of her being carried off?” asked Mareschal hastily.

“She is retired to her apartment greatly fatigued; and I cannot expect much light upon her adventure till her spirits are somewhat recruited,” replied her father. “She and I were not the less obliged to you, Mareschal, and to my other friends, for their kind enquiries. But I must suppress the father’s feelings for a while to give myself up to those of the patriot. You know this is the day fixed for our final decision—time presses—our friends are arriving, and I have opened house, not only for the gentry, but for the under spur-leathers whom we must necessarily employ. We have, therefore, little time to prepare to meet them.—Look over these lists, Marchie (an abbreviation by which Mareschal-Wells was known among his friends). Do you, Sir Frederick, read these letters from Lothian and the west—all is ripe for the sickle, and we have but to summon out the reapers.”

“With all my heart,” said Mareschal; “the more mischief the better sport.”

Sir Frederick looked grave and disconcerted.

“Walk aside with me, my good friend,” said Ellieslaw to the sombre baronet; “I have something for your private ear, with which I know you will be gratified.”

They walked into the house, leaving Ratcliffe and Mareschal standing together in the court.

“And so,” said Ratcliffe, “the gentlemen of your political persuasion think the downfall of this government so certain, that they disdain even to throw a decent disguise over the machinations of their party?”

“Faith, Mr. Ratcliffe,” answered Mareschal, “the actions and sentiments YOUR friends may require to be veiled, but I am better pleased that ours can go barefaced.”

“And is it possible,” continued Ratcliffe, “that you, who, notwithstanding pour thoughtlessness and heat of temper (I beg pardon, Mr. Mareschal, I am a plain man)—that you, who, notwithstanding these constitutional defects, possess natural good sense and acquired information, should be infatuated enough to embroil yourself in such desperate proceedings? How does your head feel when you are engaged in these dangerous conferences?”

“Not quite so secure on my shoulders,” answered Mareschal, “as if I were talking of hunting and hawking. I am not of so indifferent a mould as my cousin Ellieslaw, who speaks treason as if it were a child’s nursery rhymes, and loses and recovers that sweet girl, his daughter, with a good deal less emotion on both occasions, than would have affected me had I lost and recovered a greyhound puppy. My temper is not quite so inflexible, nor my hate against government so inveterate, as to blind me to the full danger of the attempt.”

“Then why involve yourself in it?” said Ratcliffe.

“Why, I love this poor exiled king with all my heart; and my father was an old Killiecrankie man, and I long to see some amends on the Unionist courtiers, that have bought and sold old Scotland, whose crown has been so long independent.”

“And for the sake of these shadows,” said his monitor, “you are going to involve your country in war and yourself in trouble?”

“I involve? No!—but, trouble for trouble, I had rather it came to-morrow than a month hence. COME, I know it will; and, as your country folks say, better soon than syne—it will never find me younger—and as for hanging, as Sir John Falstaff says, I can become a gallows as well as another. You know the end of the old ballad;

“Sae dauntonly, sae wantonly, Sae rantingly gaed he, He play’d a spring, and danced a round, Beneath the gallows tree.”

“Mr. Mareschal, I am sorry for you,” said his grave adviser.

“I am obliged to you, Mr. Ratcliffe; but I would not have you judge of our enterprise by my way of vindicating it; there are wiser heads than mine at the work.”

“Wiser heads than yours may lie as low,” said Ratcliffe, in a warning tone.

“Perhaps so; but no lighter heart shall; and, to prevent it being made heavier by your remonstrances, I will bid you adieu, Mr. Ratcliffe, till dinner-time, when you shall see that my apprehensions have not spoiled my appetite.”