Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume XIII Part 12

"Go!" said he, stamping his foot, and placing the money in her hand--"go! I order you."

They knew his temper, that he was not to be thwarted, and Rebecca obeyed. He continued to walk across the floor with the same stride of importance; he addressed his sons as Master Donaldson, Master Peter, and Master Jacob; and Sarah, who was the best of the family, as Miss Donaldson. He walked up to his wife, and, with a degree of kindness, such as his family had never witnessed before, he clapped her on the shoulder, and said--

"Catherine, you know the proverb, that 'they who look for a silk gown always get a sleeve o't'--I have long looked for one to you, and now

"I'll mak ye lady o' them a'!"

And, in his own unmusical way, he sang a line or two from the "La.s.s o'

Gowrie."

Poor Mrs Donaldson trembled from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot. Her looks plainly told that she feared her husband had "gone beside himself." He resumed his march across the floor, stately as an admiral on the quarterdeck, when Rebecca entered with the brandy and the wine.

"What!" said he, again, stamping his foot, "did I not _order_ you to _order_ John Bell to _send_ the bottles?"

Rebecca shook--but he took them from her hand, and ordered her to bring the gla.s.ses! I have already noticed the paucity of gla.s.s vessels at Rebecca's baptism. They were not more numerous now; and even the footless gla.s.s, out of which the linnet drank, had long ago, with the linnet, gone the way of all flesh and of all gla.s.s; and Rebecca placed a white teacup, scored and seamed with age (there were but four in the house), upon the table.

"What! a cup! a cup!" exclaimed he, stamping his foot more vehemently than before; "did I not _order_ you to bring _gla.s.ses_! Me!--me!--Mister Donaldson drink wine out of a teacup!" And he dashed the cup behind the fire.

"O Paul! Paul!" cried Mrs Donaldson, addressing her first-born, "is yer faither crazed!--will ye no haud him!--shall we send for the doctor, a strait-jacket, or the minister?"

Paul was puzzled: his father did not exactly seem mad; but his conduct, his extravagance, was so unlike anything he had ever seen in him before, that he was troubled on his account, and he rose to reason with him.

"Keep your seat, Master Donaldson," said his father, with the dignity of a duke--"keep your seat, sir; your father is not mad, but before a week go round, the best hat in the village shall be lifted to him."

Paul knew not what to think; but he had been taught to fear and to obey his father, and he obeyed him now. Andrew again handed money to his daughter, and ordered her to go and purchase six tumblers and six wine-gla.s.ses. Mrs Donaldson wrung her hands; she no longer doubted that her husband was "beside himself." The crystal, however, was brought, the wine and the brandy were sent round, and the day-labourer made merry with his children.

On the Monday following, he went not out into the fields to his work as usual; but arraying himself in his Sunday attire, he took leave of his family, saying he would be absent for a week. This was as unaccountable as his sending for the wine, the brandy, and the crystal, for no man attended his employment more faithfully than Andrew Donaldson. For twenty years he had never been absent from his work a single day, Sundays and Fast-days alone excepted. His children communed together, and his wife shed tears; she was certain that something had gone wrong about his head; yet, strange as his actions were, his conversation was rational; and though still imperious, he manifested more affection for them all than he had ever done before. They did not dare to question him as to the change that had come over him, or whither he was going; for at all times his mildest answer to all inquiries was, that "fools and bairns should never see things half done." He departed, therefore, without telling why or whither, simply intimating that he would return within seven days, leaving his family in distress and bewilderment.

Sunday came, but no tidings were heard regarding him. With much heaviness of heart and anxiety of spirit, his sons and daughters proceeded to the church; and while they, with others, yet stood in groups around the church-yard, a stranger gentleman entered. His step was slow and soldier-like. He carried a silken umbrella to screen himself from the sun, for they were then but little used as a protection from rain; few had at that time discovered that they could be so applied. His head was covered with a hat of the most fashionable shape.

His hair was thickly powdered, and gathered up behind in a _queue_. His coat, his vest, his breeches, were of silken velvet, and the colour thereof was the kingly purple--moreover, the knees of the last-mentioned article were fastened with silver buckles, which shone as stars as the sun fell upon them. His stockings also were of silk, white as the driven snow; and partly covering these, he wore a pair of boots of the kind called Hessian. In his left hand, as I have said, he carried an umbrella, and in his right he bore a silver-mounted cane.[2]

[Footnote 2: To some this picture may appear exaggerated, but many readers of these Tales will recognise in it a faithful portraiture of the original.]

The people gazed with wonder as the stranger paced slowly along the footpath; and, as he approached the door, the s.e.xton lifted his hat, bowed, and walking before him, conducted him to the squire's pew. The gentleman sat down; he placed his umbrella between his knees, his cane by his side, and from his pocket he drew out a silver snuff-box, and a Bible in two volumes, bound in crimson-coloured morocco. As the congregation began to a.s.semble, some looked at the stranger in the squire's seat with wonder. All thought his face was familiar to them. On the countenances of some there was a smile; and from divers parts of the church there issued sounds like the t.i.ttering of suppressed laughter.

Amongst those who gazed on him were the sons and daughters of Andrew Donaldson. Their cheeks alternately became red, pale, hot, and cold. Their eyes were in a dream, and poor Sarah's head fell, as though she had fainted away, upon the shoulder of her brother Paul.

Peter looked at Jacob, and Rebecca hung her head. But the squire and his family entered. They reached the pew--he bowed to the stranger--gazed--started--frowned--ushered his family rudely past him, and beckoned for the gentleman to leave the pew. In the purple-robed stranger he recognised his own field-labourer, Andrew Donaldson! Andrew, however, kept his seat, and looked haughty and unmoved. But the service began--the preacher looked often to the pew of the squire, and at length he too seemed to make the discovery, for he paused for a full half-minute in the middle of his sermon, gazed at the purple coat, and all the congregation gazed with him, and breaking from his subject, he commenced a lecture against the wickedness of pride and vanity.

The service being concluded, the sons and daughters of Andrew Donaldson proceeded home, with as many eyes fixed upon them as upon their father's purple coat. They were confounded and unhappy beyond the power of words to picture their feelings. They communicated to their mother all that they had seen. She, good soul, was more distressed than even they were, and she sat down and wept for "her poor Andrew." He came not; and Paul, Peter, and Jacob were about to go in quest of him--and they now thought in earnest of a strait-waistcoat--when John Bell's waiter of the King's Head entered, and presenting Mr Donaldson's compliments, requested them to come and dine with him. Wife, sons, and daughters were petrified!

"Puir man!" said Mrs Donaldson, and tears forbade her to say more.

"Oh! my father! my puir father!" cried Sarah.

"He does not seem to be poor," answered the waiter.

"What in the world can hae put him sae?" said Jacob.

"We maun try to soothe and humour him," added Paul.

The whole family, therefore, though ashamed to be seen in the village, went to the King's Head together. They were ushered into a room, in the midst of which stood Andrew, with divers trunks or boxes around him. His wife screamed, as she beheld his transformation; and, clasping her hands together, she cried, "O Andrew!"

"Catherine," said he, "ye must understand that ye are a lady now, and ye must not call me Andrew, but Mister Donaldson."

"A leddy!" exclaimed she, in a tone of mingled fear and astonishment--"O dear! what does the man mean! Bairns! bairns! can nane o' ye bring yer faither to reason!"

"It is you that requires to be brought to reason, Mrs Donaldson," said he; "but now since I see that ye are all upon the rack, I'll put ye at your wits' end. I am sensible that baith you and our neighbours have always considered me in the light of a miser. But neither you nor them knew my motive for saving. It has ever been my desire to become the richest, the greatest, and the most respectable man in the parish. But, though you may think that I have pinched the stomach, and wasted nothing on the back, this I knew I never could become out of the savings of nine shillings a-week. Yet, night and day, I hoped, prayed, and believed, that it would be accomplished--and it is accomplished!--yes, I repeat, it is accomplished."

"Oh help us!--help us?--what's to be dune wi' him?" cried Mrs Donaldson.

"Will ye speak sae that we can understand ye, faither?" said Paul.

"Well, then," replied Andrew, "for twenty years have I purchased shares in the lotteries, and twenty times did I get nothing but blanks--but I have got it at last!--I have got it at last!"

"What have you got, Andrew?" inquired Mrs Donaldson, eagerly, whose eyes were beginning to be opened.

"What have ye got, faither?" exclaimed Rebecca, breathlessly, who possessed no small portion of her father's pride; "how muckle is't?--will we can keep a coach?"

"Ay, and a coachman, too!" answered he, with an air of triumphant pride; "I have got the half of a _thirty thousand_!"

"The like o' that!" said Mrs Donaldson, raising her hands.

"A coach!" repeated Rebecca, surveying her face in a mirror.

Sarah looked surprised, but said nothing.

"Fifteen thousand pounds!" said Peter.

"Fifteen thousand!" responded Jacob.

Paul was thoughtful.

"Now," added Andrew, opening the boxes around him, "go each of you cast off the sackcloth which now covers you, and in these you will find garments such as it becomes the family of Andrew Donaldson, Esquire, to wear."

They obeyed his commands; and, casting aside their home-made cloth and cotton gowns, they appeared before him in the raiment which he had provided for them. The gowns were of silk, the coats of the finest Saxony, the waistcoats Ma.r.s.eilles. Mrs Donaldson's dress sat upon her awkwardly--the waist was out of its place, she seemed at a loss what to do with her arms, and altogether she appeared to feel as though the gown were too fine to sit upon. Sarah was neat, though not neater than she was in the dress of printed cotton which she had cast off; but Rebecca was transformed into the fine lady in a moment, and she tossed her head with the air of a d.u.c.h.ess. The sleeves of Paul's coat were too short, Peter's vest would admit of but one b.u.t.ton, and Jacob's trousers were deficient in length. Nevertheless, great was the outward change upon the family of Andrew Donaldson, and they gazed upon each other in wonder, as they would have stared at an exhibition of strange animals.

At this period there was a property, consisting of about twenty acres, in the neighbourhood of the village for sale. Mr Donaldson became the purchaser, and immediately commenced to build _Luck's Lodge, or Lottery Hall_, which to-day arrested your attention. As you may have seen, it was built under the direction of no architect but caprice, or a fickle and uninformed taste. The house was furnished expensively; there were card-tables and dining-tables, the couch, the sofa, and the harpsichord.

Mrs Donaldson was afraid to touch the furniture, and she thought it little short of sin to sit upon the hair-bottomed mahogany chairs, which were studded with bra.s.s nails, bright as the stars in the firmament.

Though, however, a harpsichord stood in the dining-room, as yet no music had issued from the lodge. Sarah had looked at it, and Rebecca had touched it, and appeared delighted with the sounds she produced; but even her mother knew that such sounds were not a tune. A dancing-master, therefore, who at that period was teaching the "five positions" to the youths and maidens of the village, was engaged to teach dancing and the mysteries of the harpsichord at the same time to the daughters of Mr.

Donaldson. He had become a great and a rich man in a day; yet the pride of his heart was not satisfied. His neighbours did not lift their hats to him, as he had expected; but they pa.s.sed him, saying, "Here's a fine day, Andrew!" or, "Weel, Andrew, hoo's a' wi' ye the day?" To such observations or inquiries he never returned an answer, but with his silver-mounted cane in his hand stalked proudly on. But this was not all; for, even in pa.s.sing through the village, he would hear the women remark, "There's that silly body Donaldson away past;" or, "There struts the Lottery Ticket!" These things were wormwood to his spirit, and he repented that he had built his house in a neighbourhood where he was known. To be equal with the squire, however, and to mortify his neighbours the more, he bought a pair of horses and a barouche. He was long puzzled for a crest and motto with which to emblazon it; and Mrs.

Donaldson suggested that Peter should paint on it a lottery ticket, but her husband stamped his foot in anger; and at length the coach-painter furnished it with the head and paws of some unknown animal.

Paul had always been given to books; he now requested to be sent to the university. His wish was complied with, and he took his departure for Edinburgh. Peter had always evinced a talent for drawing and painting.

When a boy, he was wont to sketch houses and trees with pieces of chalk, which his mother declared to be as _natural as life_, and he now took instructions from a drawing-master. Jacob was ever of an idle turn; and he at first prevailed upon his father to purchase him a riding-horse, and afterwards to furnish him with the means of seeing the world. So Jacob set up gentleman in earnest, and went abroad. Mrs Donaldson was at home in no part of the house but the kitchen; and in it, notwithstanding her husband's lectures to remember that she was the wife of Mister Donaldson, she was generally found.

At the period when her father obtained the prize, Sarah was on the eve of being united to a respectable young man, a mechanic in the village, but now she was forbidden to speak or to look on him. The cotton gown lay lighter on her bosom than did its silken successor. Rebecca mocked her, and her father persecuted her; but poor Sarah could not cast off the affections of her heart like a worn garment. From childhood she had been blithe as the lark, but now dull melancholy claimed her as its own.

The smile and the rose expired upon her cheeks together, and her health and happiness were crushed beneath her father's wealth. Rebecca, too, in their poverty had been "respected like the lave," but she now turned disdainfully from her admirer, and when he dared to accost her, she inquired with a frown, "Who are you, sir?" In her efforts also to speak properly, she committed foul murder on his Majesty's English; but she became the pride of her father's heart, his favourite daughter whom he delighted to honour.

Still feeling bitterly the want of reverence that was shown him by the villagers, and resolved at the same time to act as other gentlemen of fortune did, as winter drew on, Mr. Donaldson removed, with his wife, and daughters, and his son Peter, to London. They took up their abode at a hotel in Albemarle Street; and having brought the barouche with them, every afternoon Mr. Donaldson and his daughter Rebecca drove round the Park. His dress was rich and his carriage proud, and he lounged about the most fashionable places of resort; but he was not yet initiated into the mysteries of fashion and greatness; he was ignorant of the key by which their chambers were to be unlocked; and it mortified and surprised him that Andrew Donaldson, Esq., of Luck's Lodge--a gentleman who paid ready money for everything--received no invitations to the routes, the a.s.semblies, or tables of the _haut ton_; but he paraded Bond Street, or sauntered on the Mall, with as little respect shown to him as by his neighbours in the country. When he had been a month in the metropolis, he discovered that he had made an omission, and he paid two guineas for the announcement of his arrival in a morning newspaper. "This will do!"