Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume VIII Part 23

"'What want you, William?' he inquired, in a hollow voice.

"'It is a letter for you, sir,' said I, 'brought by a stranger, whom the laird said I might admit.'

"A glow of pleasure pa.s.sed over his face, as, with an effort, he raised himself, and took the letter from my hand.

"'Blessed Jesus!' he said, 'my prayers are heard! Admit him. He brings me peace and salvation through the Church. My penitence and penances have prevailed.'

"After the stranger, who was a Papist priest, was admitted, they remained alone until our guest died, which was on the second day after.

He was buried by the laird. What or who he was, we never knew. All his books and papers were taken away; but the consequences of his residence still remain, as a punishment for harbouring a Papist, and suffering idolatry under our roof. The room he possessed and died in is, we are certain, disturbed by a spirit. We hear the door open and shut at night, and strange noises startle us from our rest. Two visiters, one after the other, who attempted to sleep in it, were terrified almost out of their senses; and it is for this reason we could not offer it to you to sleep in."

My curiosity was as much awakened by the vague account the good people gave me of the room in its present state, as my interest had been excited by the account of the poor outlaw. I am, I confess, not more brave than other people. I never courted danger for the love of it, or fled from it to meet dishonour; and, as for the reality of spectres, I neither believe nor disbelieve in them; having, in all my travels, never seen a legitimate one, nor troubled my head about them. As much through curiosity, I believe, as anything else--for I am sure it was not the love of a good bed, far less an adventure--I told my hosts I would with pleasure sleep in the room, if they would allow me; and, after some honest endeavours to dissuade me, they consented. Supper and family-worship being finished, we all three entered the apartment--the good woman insisting upon our company while she prepared my bed, and her husband going more cheerfully when I proposed to accompany them. All the little duties were done by the dame in a hurried, timid manner; and, while she was occupied, I looked round. The door was only fastened by a wooden latch, which opened by a string hung upon the outside. The whole interior had a simple, clean, neat look, which pleased me. After a hasty good-night and G.o.d be with you, they withdrew. When I was left alone, the account I had just heard of the strange individual who had for so long a period inhabited the apartment pa.s.sed over my mind; and who or what he could be gave rise to many a conjecture. I became low-spirited at the thought of the many miseries that human nature is liable to, under reverses of fortune from which neither birth nor riches can protect us. In this frame of mind I retired to rest--the idea of anything supernatural never entering my mind, and no shade of fear discomposing my thoughts. I soon fell asleep. How long I had slept I know not; but I was awakened by a slight noise at the door of the room, as if some one had put his hand upon it. I now felt alarmed, and expected to witness some fearful sight. The door opened and shut with a faint clang. I heard a movement on the floor. A cold sweat came over me.

I raised myself upon my elbow. All was dark--impenetrably dark, and I saw nothing; but the curtains at the foot of the bed shook violently.

"Who is there?" I attempted to inquire; but only a faint murmur escaped my lips.

A strange noise and movement on the floor again took place, and I bolted up and sat in the bed. The curtains again moved at the head; and, as I thought, were partially opened. Still nothing was to be seen, and I put forth my hand to grope. Something as cold as death touched it. This was more than I could endure. I sunk upon the bed, buried my head in the clothes, and would have cried out; but that terror had paralysed every faculty. Whatever was the cause of my alarm, I now found that the object had come into the bed, and was either seated or lying between me and the wall. I dared not uncover my head, or put out my hands to ascertain what it might be. The icy feeling still thrilled through my frame; and thus I lay in mortal agony, under the conviction that the object still reclined immoveable by my side. My firmness gradually began to return; and with it came calm reflection. I thought I heard a heavy breathing; and slowly uncovered my head to hear it better. Once more I summoned a desperate resolution to put forth my hand. What did my hand encounter?--the s.h.a.ggy coat of a dog. A gentle whine followed; the next moment my hand was licked by a warm tongue. I smiled at my late alarm. It was Colin.

Soon after daybreak I was awakened by my host, who came to inquire how I had pa.s.sed the night. He was agreeably surprised to find me safe and well. To his inquiries, I related the adventure of the night without concealing my fears, and the chance there was of my having added one more testimony to the evil report of his apartment. The grat.i.tude of the good people was extreme. They overwhelmed me with their thanks. They said I had rendered them a service they could not sufficiently repay. I had removed a cause of dread which had cast a gloom over their minds for many months; and, continued William--

"How silly it was in me not to know or think that it might be Colin!--for both the people who fled the room in terror gave the same account of the early part of the adventure. Colin, poor thing," he said, as he patted the head of the dog, "you little knew the evil you did your master and mistress. You and he that is gone were dear friends and inseparable companions. No Christian could have shown more concern at his death. You never came out from beneath his bed while the body lay on it; and, when he was carried out, Grace had to hold you, to prevent your snapping at the company as they bore him away. For long you visited his grave, and sat for hours upon it. It is the remembrance of your old friend that makes you still visit his room when all is quiet at night.

He that is now 'where the Lord will,' taught you to take the string in your mouth and pull the latch, that, always welcome, you might enter when you chose."

During this address to the dog, he looked wistfully in the face of his master, as if he comprehended all that was said. The weather having now cleared up, the morning was beautiful. After breakfast, I bade adieu to my kind hosts, with a promise that if I ever pa.s.sed that way I should make their house my home, and sleep in the room I had freed from its evil name.

As I moved cheerfully along the road, chanting some s.n.a.t.c.h of a song to keep up my spirits, my ears were a.s.sailed, at a sudden bend of the road, by a rough voice.

"Holloa, messmate, cast here a few coppers to help to revictual a hulk all the doctors in the world could not refit for sea!"

Turning my eyes to the roadside, I saw, seated upon a bank, two strange objects--a stout young man, in a tattered seaman's dress, with one arm off by the shoulder and the other by the elbow, and a young, good-looking, but tattered female by his side. In a moment my hand was in my pocket, and, drawing near to them, the female rose and held out her palm in dumb show.

"Not so fast, young woman," said I, as I was putting a half-crown into his vest-pocket; "it is for Jack."

"Bless your honour," said he, "it's all one. That there young one is my wife; poor thing, she was struck dumb in real earnest, when she saw me come home to her thus maimed. Bless her pretty face, she did not forsake poor Bill for all that."

While he spoke, a strong feeling came upon me that I had seen his face before; but when or where I could not call to mind. As I stood gazing into his face, he looked as scrutinisingly at me.

"Were you ever in the East Indies?" inquired I.

"To be sure I was. In that place I lost my precious limbs," replied he.

"Then you must be Bill Kay, whom Captain H----and I left at Bombay,"

said I.

"And you are Jack Square," said he. "Give me your hand, old shipmate."

And he held up the stump to me, and burst out a-laughing as I shook the sleeve.

The female gave him an angry look, with so much more of meaning than anger, that I thought she knew all we said.

"Come, Betsy, don't be sulky," said he; "I wish to have a bit of a talk with my old mate. Come, be a good girl, and let us go back to Berwick.

Jack Square, you will not be ashamed to walk home with us?"

The wife nodded a consent, and away we trudged to the town, from which we were only a small distance.

During our walk, I told him that I was on my way to London to look out for a vessel to India, as my fortune had been adverse in Scotland; and I was sick of the land, and careless what became of me.

"Never strike to an enemy, or quit the pumps while your vessel can float," cried he. "There are many ways of leading a jovial life. You were always my friend, and a good fellow. Give me your word, Jack, you will either stay and join us, or pa.s.s on and do us no harm, and I will have no secrets from you. Speak the word."

"I know not what you mean," I replied. "As for joining you. I do not think, in the meantime, I shall, until I know better about it; and as for hurting you or doing any harm, I give you my sincere a.s.surance I will not, however much I might gain by it."

"Betsy, my dear," said he, "we are not going to the kenn, we will go home. I wish to entertain my old friend."

We then altered our direction, and, after proceeding down a dark and dirty lane, entered a neat and well-furnished room. As soon as we entered, and the door was shut--

"Betsy," said he, "there is no use for gammon now; find your tongue, la.s.s, and help me to find my arms."

"As you please, Billy," said the dumb wife. And both retired to another apartment, from whence they soon returned--she well dressed, and Bill as perfect in every limb as when we had parted, he to remain in India, and I to return home.

I believe he had told her his intention and who I was in the time they were away; for, seeing my surprise, he laughed aloud, while she, smiling, took me by the hand, and welcomed me to their house. Now that her begging disguise was thrown off, she really was a most bewitching girl, of the gipsy cast--brilliant black eyes and hair, her features regular, almost to perfection--the loveliest brunette I had ever seen.

Bill smiled good-naturedly at the admiration my looks expressed, as I gazed at her; and, slapping me on the shoulder--

"Square," said he, "is she not a beauty? You must not fall in love with her if you stay--that I must make a condition."

We all laughed.

I said, if I fell in love, I could not help it; the fault was his for bringing me into temptation. A large square bottle of brandy and a jug of water were set on the table, and while the wife was busy preparing dinner, Bill gave me the following account of himself:--

"You know, Jack, I am no scholar," he began; "only a pretty good seaman, as far as hand, reef, or steering goes; so I soon found India was no place for me, in a regular country ship. I could not abide these black, lazy, cowardly rascals of lascars; and there were crowds of them in all the vessels I could find. They are well enough in fair weather; but when it blows the heart is blown out of them. They are either in the way, or skulking in corners; so I took the first opportunity of returning home to Britain again. When I came to London, I got into all manner of mischief, and lost my guineas like winking, above two hundred in one week; and the remainder, clothes and all, in one night in Wapping; for I awoke in the morning in the watch-house, bruised, and with only a watchman's greatcoat thrown over me. I had been thrown out of a window, or pushed down some stair, and in that state they told me I was found by the watchman. I had now time to reflect, but nothing to reflect upon, for all I had in the world was a shirt and a pair of trousers. There was no charge against me, so I walked from the watch-house like a man adrift in an old boat, without oars or food. I went to the wharves, for pity or employ. I got fitted in a kind of way; but could not find a vessel, for there were too many like myself. What to do I knew not. More than once I thought of doing as I had been done by--that is, helping myself where I could; but, although I was often without food, and slept in the streets or under a boat, I, somehow, could not bring my mind to that. I often wished I was again in Scotland, where I had friends and was known; but how to get there I knew not. At length the thought came into my mind--I could beg my way down. I could be no worse than I was in London--and where was the odds? A beggar in London was no better than a beggar in Scotland, or anywhere else; for my Scotch pride was by this time starved out of me; so off I set, but was poorly enough off, for I was not then up to the trade, so my stout look and honest truth met nothing but unkindness and insult. At length, one day, as I was on the point of dying from starvation (for England is not a country for an honest beggar), I fell upon a gang of gipsies, upon the borders of a heath, making merry. I joined them, and was kindly and hospitably received.

Betsy there was one of the troop. From the moment I saw her, I took a fancy to her pretty face--joined the gang for her sake, and soon won her regard and love. I was now content and happy. We had victuals of the best in plenty, and roamed where we pleased, with no restraint but our own wills. I found there was some tough work before my hand. Betsy had one or two pretenders to her love, in her own and other gangs, and my rivals were not to be lightly thought of, for in their minds none but the brave deserve the fair. It is, win your bride and keep her while you can. There was one stout, active fellow, whom her parents intended for her husband, but Betsy had no wish for the match, and my arrival confirmed her dislike to him. Our loves were only known to ourselves, and our interviews stolen, until my services had gained me the esteem of her father. He was patriarch or head of the gang, and kept the common stock, guiding our movements and directing our operations as far as our wayward fancies could be guided--partly by argument, partly by yielding, but seldom by resorting to punishment, for all was done for our good, to the best of his judgment. No one thought of resisting his control, and if any became discontented they left the gang--a step by no means desirable, for our safety lay in the strength of the camp. There is scarce a gang but is at feud with some other gang or gangs, and when they meet, nothing but the flight of the weaker, or some other overruling cause, prevents a battle, in which murders are not unfrequently committed.

"Under the tuition of Betsy, I became a most expert beggar, as you witnessed this morning. My contributions to the common stock often equalled the amount of all the others put together. I became the pride of the gang; and no wonder--for I strove for Betsy, and was cheered on by her acclaim, while I was scowled at by my rivals, who were quick enough, though her parents had no suspicion of it, to see her preference of me. When we thought it proper time, I proposed to the father for the hand of his daughter. He had no objection to me as a son-in-law, further than that he had all but promised her to Long Ned, but would leave it to Betsy and myself to manage the affair as we best could, and would interfere no farther with his authority than for the good of the gang.

If Betsy was pleased, he cared not whether Long Ned or I had her. When I told her the result of my conference with her father, she was as well pleased as myself.

"'Bill,' she said, 'you will not win me from Long Ned with both ease and honour. He is no contemptible rival. He will be at you as soon as he comes to the camp, for his mother will tell him. Now, be a man, and do not yield while you can stand to him, for, much as I love you--and you know I love you dearly--I could not marry you if you are beat. Nay, the people might make me marry him, and you must leave the gang, or your life would not be safe for one night. What says my Bill?'

"I looked upon the lovely girl with astonishment, her language was so unlike anything I had ever heard from a woman. In Scotland here, if a woman knew her lover was to fight, she would almost go distracted, and do all in her power to prevent him. I could scarcely believe my ears, I was as yet so little used to their ways. As I stood looking at her, a shade of anger pa.s.sed over her face, and the tears came into her eyes; she turned away her head, and sobbed aloud. This roused me.

"'What ails my Betsy?" I said, taking her in my arms. She still sobbed, and pushed me from her.

"'I am the most unfortunate girl in the world, she cried. 'I love a man, and he is a coward.'

"'A coward, Betsy!' cried I. 'What do you mean? I am no coward. I fear not the face of clay.'

"Turning to me with one of her sweet smiles--

"'I am not deceived, then, in my Bill?' she said. 'He is not afraid of Long Ned?'

"'No, my love; nor of the whole gang, one after another--one down, another come on,' said I. 'Are we friends again?'