Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume IX Part 10

Such is the character you pretend to, at any rate."

"And such," replied Tromp, with a blush of honest indignation, "is the character I maintain. Who shall gainsay it?"

"Why, there are some things going on here to-night that don't look much like it," replied Hagedorn. "Know ye, Tromp, or does Juliana know, who this one-eyed gallant is?" pointing to the late serenader.

"Whether they do or not, they shall soon know, and so shall you to your cost, Hagedorn!" replied the minstrel, starting to his feet, and hastily stripping off the disguise, eye-patch and all, in which he was enveloped; a proceeding which discovered to the astonished onlookers--not, however, including either Jones or Juliana, who had a previous knowledge of his ident.i.ty--a tall, handsome, gentlemanly-looking young man, well known as Sir Lionel Musgrave, one of the gayest and most respected of those English gentlemen who shared the misfortunes and exile of Charles II. during the existence of the Commonwealth.

"Ha!" said Hagedorn, starting to his feet, on Musgrave discovering himself. "So, I have unearthed the fox, eh!" And, as he spoke, he made a grasp at Musgrave's throat; which the latter evaded by adroitly stepping back a pace, when he instantly drew his sword and made a pa.s.s at Hagedorn, who, however, skilfully warded it off with his cutla.s.s, to which he had had recourse the moment he missed his hold of his antagonist. These proceedings were, of course, a signal to all the other men in the apartment to muster on their respective sides; and this they instantly did. Hagedorn's men immediately drew; Jones and his party did the same; and the women ran screaming from the scene of the impending contest. In one instant after, a general melee commenced. There were deep oaths, overturning of tables, and clashing of swords in every direction, and all the other characteristics of a tremendous and very serious hubbub. Blows, too, were not wanting. They fell thick and fast on all sides.

Hitherto our friend the laird had remained an idle, but sufficiently-astonished spectator of the strange and sudden scene that had been thus brought before his visual organs. Though an idle, he was not altogether, however, a mute witness of the proceedings that were going forward.

"'Od! this _is_ a queer business!" he muttered to himself. "Wha on earth wad hae thocht that yon blin-ee'd, broken-doon-lookin soul o' a fiddler wad hae turned oot a braw young sw.a.n.ky like that? Na, na, that'll no do," suddenly added the laird, and now referring to the circ.u.mstance of Jones being hard pressed by two of the intruders. "Twa on ane--that'll never do." And the laird looked around him for some weapon wherewith he might compensate the odds against his friend. Nothing of this kind more efficient than the tongs presenting itself, the laird leaped down from the table on which he had been perched in the quality of musician, and, seizing the afore-mentioned instrument by the feet, advanced upon the foe, shouting, "Stan to them, Jones! stan to them, lad! till I gie them a taste o' the tangs!" And, in the same instant, he discharged a blow at the head of one of Jones' a.s.sailants that laid him senseless on the floor. Finding his first effort so successful, the laird repeated the experiment on the prostrate man's companion with precisely the same result. Down he went also with a fractured skull. "That's the way!"

shouted the laird, now greatly excited by his own destructive exertions; "ca' them down like nine-pins! Soop them aff the face o' the yearth!"

At this moment, the laird's Io Paeans were interrupted by the entrance of a party of the town-guard, whom Tromp had summoned to his aid. These immediately seized on the intruders, as they were pointed out by the latter--the fallen men having so far recovered as to be now sitting up, although evidently sick and giddy from the effects of the laird's blows, and looking, as he said himself, "unco white aboot the gills"--and marched them off to the guard-house, to answer in due time to the judicial authorities of the city for the breach of the peace of which they had been guilty.

On the kitchen of the Drouthsloken being cleared of the enemy, an investigation into the extent of personal injury sustained took place, when it was found that this was, after all, very trivial, consisting only of two or three slight flesh wounds, of which Musgrave bore two, and one or two others one apiece.

"And now, laird," said Jones, addressing the latter, "what share of the honours have you got?"

"Deil a scratch," replied the laird. "Feth, I didna gie them time for that. I didna stan whilly-whain wi' them, wi' a bit shabble in my haun, as ye a' did, but gied them richt knock-me-doon thuds at ance--sent them owre like stots, ane after the ither. Feth! commen me to a pair o' tangs in a kitchen row. It maks clean wark. I'll think mair o' them as a weapon, baith o' offence and defence, than ever I did."

"In such hands as yours, laird, they certainly are a sufficiently-formidable weapon. Had it not been for them and you together, I would scarce have got off so scatheless as I have done. I owe you a good turn, and it shall not be forgotten. I promised you an introduction to the king; and I shall not only fulfil that promise, but, as my word goes a long way with him, I shall give such an account of you as, I answer for it, will insure you a favourable reception, and probably procure you some still more substantial tokens of his regard."

"Ou, thank ye, sir, thank ye," said the laird; "but I dinna see that I hae dune onything the nicht that should ent.i.tle me to ony special favour frae his most gracious Majesty. What interest can he possibly hae in a kitchen collyshangy like this?"

"More than you're aware of, perhaps, laird; but never mind that in the meantime. Here comes Tromp, to read us a lecture, I daresay, on the evening's occurrences, although it was none of our fault either. Ha, Musgrave, my spark!" continued Jones, and now turning to that gallant--"didst think I couldn't have known thee? 'Od's fish, man, I would have known the cut of thy jib, although thou hadst been sewn in a sack."

"Faith, your ----" A wink from Jones prevented the word that was about to follow. The wink was understood. "Faith, my friend," said Musgrave, laughing, "to tell a truth, I had no idea you were here. It was intended for a stolen march--to see whether I could not win my wager, by cutting ye out in the good graces of our landlord's fair daughter July." The conversation between Jones and Musgrave was here interrupted by the approach of Tromp, who came not, as the latter had suspected, to complain of what had occurred, but merely to request that the gentlemen would now retire, as it was getting late, and as his household was in a state of great alarm and confusion, in consequence of what had taken place.

The request was too respectfully made, and in itself too reasonable, to admit of the smallest objection. The party immediately donned their hats and cloaks, when Jones, taking the laird by the hand, told him to remain where he was for the night, and that he would wait upon him on the following morning to conduct him to the king.

Agreeably to his promise, early in the forenoon of the following day, Jones, attended by a gay band of cavaliers, entered the apartment in which the laird was at breakfast.

"Oh, Mr Jones, hoo are ye?" said the latter, rising from his seat on the entrance of the former. "I'm sure this is very guid o' ye. Nane the waur o' the bit stramash we had last nicht, I hope?"

"Oh! not a bit, not a bit, kind thanks to you for that, laird," replied Jones. "Now, my friend," continued the latter, "I am better than my word: I promised to bring you to the king; instead of this, I have brought the king to you. Any objection, laird, to take me for your lawful, but unfortunate king? I am Charles," he said, in a tone of more earnest emphasis.

Need we describe the laird's amazement at this astounding disclosure? We need not. The reader will conceive it. Although he looked unutterable things, all that he said was--

"Gude preserve me! is that a fact?" p.r.o.nounced in the slow, deliberate tone of overwhelming and perplexed amazement.

The sequel of our tale is soon told. Charles settled a small pension on the laird--all that his circ.u.mstances at the time would afford--on which he lived for several years at the Hague. He subsequently found his way back to Scotland, the distracted state of the king's affairs preventing the regular payment of his pension. In the meantime, years rolled on, and changes took place, and amongst these came the Restoration. Charles was restored to the throne of his ancestors. On this throne the monarch had not been many days seated, when he was informed by one of the pages in waiting that they had been much annoyed by an old grey-headed Scotchman, with a large flat blue bonnet on his head, insisting on admission to His Majesty's presence.

"Did he give his name?" replied the monarch.

"He did, please your majesty," replied the page; "he said he was sure that, if we would inform your majesty that it was the Laird of Lucky's How who sought admission, your majesty would instantly grant him an audience."

"He was right," said Charles, smiling. "I recollect the honest man well.

Admit him next time he presents himself."

The laird came, was admitted, and was received with a most cordial welcome by the good-natured monarch. They talked over the occurrences of the evening they had spent in the kitchen of the Drouthsloken; and the laird was finally dismissed, with a promise, shortly afterwards redeemed, of his being reinstated in his patrimonial lands. To this other gratuities were added, to an amount that amply compensated him, as he often himself said, for all that he had suffered in the royal cause.

Some will say, perhaps, and with too much truth, that Charles was not so grateful to all his friends; but, in the present instance, we have only to do with the case of the Laird of Lucky's How.

THE ABDUCTION.

The farm of Kelpiehaugh, at a short distance from Lessudden, was, at an early period of the St Boswell's meetings, occupied by Giles Ramsay--a man who, as often happens in Scotland, was not loth to admit that "his grey mare was the better horse." He liked the philosophy of the old ballad quoted by Shakspere, and received it as a general maxim, that "nought's to be had at a woman's hand" unless, in every case, "ye gie her a' the plea." And, verily, Matty did not love him the worse for his correct notions of woman-kind, though, as for anything like grat.i.tude for his easy submission to her entire authority, she knew nothing of the sentiment, if she did not heartily despise it. The reason was indeed plain enough; for she had the capacity to know that, whatever superiority nature intended her husband should possess over her, in his character of one of the lords of the creation, he had none whatever in the capacity of her husband. In this there was a secret which she communicated to no one; and that was simply, that Giles was, in all respects, a stupid, simple, honest "cudden," and she was one of the cleverest dames that ever made a good-natured husband cry "barlafummil"

in a matrimonial skirmish. Yet, with all the guidwife's cleverness, she had not been able either to prevent Giles from getting behind with his rent--the more by token as, we fancy, that Kelpiehaugh was too dear--or to get "the glaikit hizzy," Mary, her daughter, well buckled to a canny laird, who might help them to pay up their arrears. The first was clearly no marvel; but the second might have been termed some what extraordinary, seeing the young woman was as fair as Dowsabell.

Something as regarded the rent depended upon the next sale of cattle at St Boswell's, for which honest Giles had ready six as good stirks as ever grazed on a green lea; and it was arranged between him and the better partner of the matrimonial firm, that he must get six pounds for every head of them, otherwise he might have small chance for "love's roundelay" on his return.

"It will mak thirty-six pounds, Giles," said Matty; "and that will enable us to pay up ten pounds o' oor arrears."

"And what will I get for a superplus o' a pound a-head on them?" said Giles.

"The liberty to buy a new gown for Mary," replied she, "that we may try to get her aff at the next fair. But, if ye sell them for a pound less, I rede ye to seek a quieter bield for your hame than Kelpiehaugh will be on your return."

And so primed, old Giles set off with his six stirks to St Boswell's. He arrived at the green, and exposed his b.e.s.t.i.a.l in the most favourable manner he could; but he found that Matty's price did not accord with the humour of the buyers, who probably thought proper to judge for themselves in the question of value. The time pa.s.sed, and Giles saw before him nothing but the necessity of driving the stirks back again to Kelpiehaugh--an operation he by no means relished. As he stood musing on the apparently forlorn hope of a customer, an old man, much bent, with a grey beard, and a patch over his left eye as big as the blind of him of forging celebrity, "Blackpatch" himself, came up to him, and at once offered him eight pounds a-head for his stock. The old farmer wondered, smiled, and accepted. The bargain was struck, and forty-eight good pounds were instanter placed in the hands of the seller.

"Now I have a favour to ask of you, good Mr Ramsay," said the buyer.

"It will be an unreasonable request I winna grant to ane wha has gien me my ain price," replied the farmer. "What is't?"

"That you will drive the cattle home to Kelpiehaugh, and keep them there at my risk and cost till I send for them," said the other.

"Granted, and wi' thanks," said the farmer.

"I have another favour to ask," said the other.

"As mony's ye like, sir, if they're a' o' a kind," answered the farmer, smiling. "Out wi't."

"That you'll give me a bed at Kelpiehaugh to-night," said the old man.

"I have a distance to ride, and would fain halve the stage, by making your house a half-way resting-place.

"Of a surety, sir," replied the farmer; "ye'll hae the best bed and the best victuals Kelpiehaugh can boast o', and nae boast after a', though Matty, I am proud to say, kens hussyskep as weel as ony woman in a' the shirradom. Will ye gang wi' me, or come yersel?"

"I will come by myself," said the buyer. "I have some other affairs to settle before the fair breaks up, and it may be later than your time before I have finished."

The matter being thus arranged, the two parted. Giles was anxious to know who his customer was; but no one could tell anything of him, and the hour getting forward to the gloaming, he set off again for his farm, with his forty-eight pounds in his pocket, and the cattle before him. On his approaching Kelpiehaugh, Matty, along with her fair daughter, was at the door, waiting for him. It was now dark; but she could hear his voice in articulations which pleased her not. "Hey! hey! yaud! yaud!" and then came the sound of a thwack on the backs of the lazy troop he was driving before him.

"And ye've brought them back again, ye sorry simpleton?" cried the wife.

The husband answered nothing, but continued thumping at the nolt with his "hey," and "yaud," and "phew"--every e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n having the effect of an objurgatory attack on the dame herself.

"Ay, ay," she cried, "thump them and drive them into the shed, Giles, that they may be ready for the roup o' our plenishing and stocking. The auctioneer's hammer will knock them down wi' mair pith than that rung ye are using, wi' a' the spite o' an angry disappointed man, wha couldna mak a sale o' his ain kye."