Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume II Part 3

even for his ain flesh an' bluid he has but sma' compa.s.sion when his anger is provoked. Death, too, is an awfu' thing to think aboot; an', therefore, for yer ain sake, an' for the sake o' yer puir distressed mother an' sisters, dinna come to a rash determination."

"Sweet la.s.s," replied he, "I respect the sympathy which ye evince; but never shall Sir Gideon Murray say that, in order to save my life, he terrified me into a marriage wi' his daughter. An' when my puir mother's grief has subsided, she will think differently o' my decision."

"Weel, sir," said the maiden, "since ye will not listen to my advice--an' I own that I hae nae richt to offer it--I will send ane to ye whose persuasion will hae mair avail."

"Whom will ye send?" inquired the laird; "it isna possible that ye can hae been playing me false?"

"No," she replied, "that isna possible; an' from her that I will send to you, you will see whether or not I hae kept my word, guid and truly, to fulfil yer message."

So saying, she withdrew, leaving him much wondering at her words, and yet more at the interest which she took in his fate. But she had not long withdrawn when the prison-door was again opened, and Lady Scott rushed into the arms of her son.

"My mother!" cried he, starting back in astonishment--"my mother!--hoo is this?"

"Oh, joy an' gladness, an' every blessing be upon my honoured lady!

for noo I may stand some chance o' walkin' back upon my ain feet to see my family. Oh! yer leddyship," Simon added, "join yer prayers to my prayers, an' try if ye can persuade my maister to marry Sir Gideon's dochter, an' thereby save baith his life an' mine."

But she fell upon the neck of her son, and seemed not to hear the words which Simon addressed to her.

"O my son! my son!" she cried; "since there is no other way by which yer life can be ransomed, yield to the demand o' the fierce Murray. Marry his daughter an' live--save yer wretched mother's life; for yer death, Willie, wad be mine also."

"Mother!" answered he, vehemently, "I will never accept life upon such terms. I am in Murray's hands, but the day may come--yea, see ye that it does come--when he shall fall into the hands o' the Scotts o' Harden; an' see ye that ye do to him as he shall have done to me. But, tell me, mother, hoo are ye here? Wherefore did ye venture, or hoo got ye permission to see me? Ken ye not that if he found ye in his power, upon your life also he wad fix a ransom?"

"The kind la.s.sie," she replied, "that brought the letter from ye, at my request conducted me here, and contrived to get me permission to see ye; an' she says that my visit shall not come to the knowledge o' Sir Gideon. But, O Willie! as ye love an' respect the mother that bore ye, an' that nursed ye nicht an' day at her bosom, dinna throw awa yer life when it is in yer power to save it, but marry Miss Murray, an' ye may live, an' so may I, to see many happy days; for, from a' that I hae heard, though not weel-favoured, she is a young lady o' an excellent disposition!"

"Oh! that's richt, my leddy," interrupted Simon; "urge him to marry her, for it would be a dreadfu' thing for him an' I to be gibbeted, as a pair o' perpetual spectacles for the Murrays to mak a jest o'. Ye ken if he does marry, an' if he finds he doesna like her, he can leave her; or he needna live wi' her; or, perhaps, she may soon die; an' ye will certainly agree that marriage, ony way ye tak it, is to be desired, a thousand times ower, before a violent death. Therefore, urge him again, yer leddyship, for he may listen to what ye say, though he despises my words, an' will not hearken to my advice."

"Simon," said the laird, "never shall a Murray hae it in his power to boast that he struck terror into the breast o' a Scott o' Harden. My determination is fixed as fate. I shall welcome my doom, an' meet it as a man. Come, dear mother," he added, "weep not, nor cause me to appear in the presence o' my enemies with a blanched cheek. Hasten to avenge my death, an' think that in yer revenge yer son lives again. Come, though I die, there will be moonlight again."

She hung upon his breast and wept, but he turned away his head and refused to listen to her entreaties. The young maiden again entered the prison, and said--

"Ye must part noo, for in a few minutes Sir Gideon will be astir, an'

should he find yer leddyship here, or discover that I hae brought ye, I wad hae sma' power to gie ye protection."

"Fareweel, dear mother!--fareweel!" exclaimed the youth, grasping her hand.

"O Willie! Willie!" she cried, "did I bear ye to see ye come to an end like this! Bairn! bairn! live--for yer mother's sake, live!"

"Fareweel, mother!--fareweel!" he again cried, and the sentinel conducted her from the apartment.

It again drew towards noon. The loud gong again sounded, and Simon sank upon his knees in despair, as the voice of the warder was heard crying--"It is the hour! prepare the prisoners for execution!"

Again the prison-door was opened, and Sir Gideon, with wrath upon his brow, stood before them.

"Weel, youngster," said he, addressing the laird, "yer hour is come.

What is yer choice--a wife or the wuddy?"

"Lead me to execution, ye auld knave," answered the laird, scornfully; "an' ken, that wi' the hemp around my neck, in contempt o' you an'

yours, I will spit upon the ground where ye tread."

"Here, guards!" cried Sir Gideon; "lead forth William Scott o' Harden to execution. Strap him upon the nearest tree, an' there let him hang until the bauldest Scott upon the Borders dare to cut him down. As for you,"

added he, addressing Simon, "I seek not your life; depart, ye are free; but beware hoo ye again fall into the hands o' Gideon Murray."

"No, sir!" exclaimed Simon, "though I am free to acknowledge that I hae nae ambition to die before it is the wise will an' purpose o' nature, yet I winna, I canna leave my dear young maister; an' if he be to suffer, I will share his fate. Only, Sir Gideon, there is ae thing I hae to say, an' that is, that he is young, an' he is proud an' stubborn, like yersel', an' though he will not, o' his ain free will an' accord, nor in obedience to yer commandments, marry yer dochter--is it not possible to compel him, whether he be willing or no, an' so save his life, as it were, in spite o' him?"

"Away with both!" cried the knight, striking his ironed heel upon the ground, and leaving the apartment.

"Then, if it is to be, it must be," said Simon, folding his arms in resignation, "an' there is no help for it! But, oh, maister! maister!

ye hae acted foolishly."

They were led from the prison-house, and through the court-yard, towards a tall elm-tree, round which all the retainers of Sir Gideon were a.s.sembled to witness the execution; and the old knight took his place upon an elevated seat in the midst of them.

The executioners were preparing to perform their office, when Agnes, or Muckle-mouthed Meg, as she was called, came forth, with a deep veil thrown over her face, and sinking on her knee before the old knight, said, imploringly--"A boon, dear faither--yer dochter begs a simple boon."

"Ye tak an ill season to ask it, Meg," said the knight, angrily; "but what may it be?"

She whispered to him earnestly for a few minutes, during which his countenance exhibited indignation and surprise; and when she had finished speaking, she again knelt before him and embraced his knees.

"Rise, Meg, rise!" said he, impatiently, "for yer sake, an' at yer request, he shall hae another chance to live." And, approaching the prisoner, he added--"William Scott, ye hae chosen death in preference to the hand o' my dochter. Will ye noo prefer to die rather than marry the la.s.sie that ran wi' the letter to yer mother, an' without my consent brought her to see ye?"

"Had another asked me the question," said the laird, "though I ken not who she is, yet she has a kind heart, and I should hae said 'No,' an'

offered her my hand, heart, an' fortune; but to you, Sir Gideon, I only say--do yer worst."

"Then, Willie, my ain Willie!" cried his mother, who at that moment rushed forward, "another does request ye to marry her, an' that is yer ain mother!"

"An'," said Agnes, stepping forward, and throwing aside the veil that covered her face, "puir Meg, ower whom ye gied a preference to the gallows, also requests ye!"

"What!" exclaimed the young laird, grasping her hand, "is the kind la.s.sie that has striven, night and day, to save me--the very Meg that I hae been treating wi' disdain?"

"In troth am I," she replied, "an' do ye prefer the wuddy still?"

"No," answered he; and, turning to Sir Gideon, he added--"Sir, I am now willing that the ceremony end in matrimony."

"Be it so," said the old knight, and the spectators burst into a shout.

The day that began with preparations for death ended in a joyful bridal.

The honour of knighthood was afterwards conferred upon the laird; and Meg bore unto him many sons and daughters, and was, as the reader will be ready to believe, one of the best wives in Scotland; while Simon declared that he never saw a better-looking woman in Ettrick Forest, his own wife and daughters not excepted.

LORD DURIE AND CHRISTIE'S WILL.

Who can journey, now-a-days, along the high parts of Selkirkshire, and hear the mire-snipe whistle in the mora.s.s, proclaiming itself, in the silence around, the unmolested occupant of the waste, or descend into the green valley, and see the lazy shepherd lying folded up in his plaid, while his flocks graze in peace around him and in the distance, and not think of the bold spirits that, in the times of Border warfare, sounded the war-horn till it rang in reverberating echoes from hill to hill? The land of the Armstrongs knows no longer their kindred. The hills, ravines, mosses, and muirs, that, only a few centuries ago, were animated by the boldest spirits that ever sounded a war-cry, and defended to the death by men whose swords were their only charters of right, have pa.s.sed into other hands, and the names of the warlike holders serve now only to give a grim charm to a Border ballad. An extraordinary lesson may be read on the banks of the Liddel and the Esk--there is a strange eloquence in the silence of these quiet dales.

Stand for a while among the graves of the chief of Gilnockie and his fifty followers, in the lonely churchyard of Carlenrig--cast a contemplative eye on the roofless tower of that brave riever, then glance at the gorgeous policies of Bowhill, and resist, if you can, the deep sigh that rises as a tribute to the memories of men who, having, by their sleepless spirits, kept a kingdom in commotion, died on the gallows, and left no generation to claim their lands from those who, with less bravery and no better sense of right, had the subtle policy to rise on their ruins. Poorly, indeed, now sound the names of Johnny Armstrong, Sim of Whittram, Sim of the Cathill, Kinmont Willie, or Christie's Will, besides those of Dukes of Buccleuch and Roxburgh, Scott of Harden, and Elliot of s...o...b.. and Wells; and yet, without wishing to take away the _merit_ or the _extent_ of their ancestors'

own "reif and felonie," how much do they owe to their succession to the ill-got gear of those hardy Borderers whose names and scarcely credible achievements are all that have escaped the rapacity that, not satisfied with their lands, took also their lives! For smaller depredations, the old laws of the Border--and it would not be fair to exclude those of the present day, not confined to that locality--awarded a halter; for thefts of a larger kind, they gave a t.i.tle. Old Wat of Buccleuch deserved the honour of "the neck garter" just as much as poor Johnny Armstrong; yet all he got was a reproof and a dukedom.

"Then up and spake the n.o.ble king-- And an angry man, I trow, was he-- 'It ill becomes ye, bauld Bucclew, To talk o' reif or felonie; For, if every man had his ain cow, A right puir clan yer name would be.'"