Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume III Part 17

Though George obeyed his father so far as to go the length of the house door, he could not find time to go in for his promised _piece_; and, without opening it, he turned, and set off at the top of his speed in the direction of Nettlebank.

Return we now to the widow's cottage. The poor woman was far from having recovered, when she was called upon to attend the deathbed of her husband. The fatigue, terror, anxiety, and want of rest, from which she had suffered during that period, might have been sufficient to break down even the strongest const.i.tution. When to these are added weeks of wandering in quest of a habitation, the reader will hardly be surprised when he is told that her animal strength was gone--her spirits sunk, and despair seemed to be closing around her. With a frame completely worn out, a head which ached, blistered feet, and, we might almost add, a "bleeding heart," she sat by her fire one evening--her head resting on her hand, and her eyes fixed upon her children, while sighs convulsed her bosom. She wished to commit her little ones to the care of their Maker; but such was the state of her mind, that she fancied she could not perform even this duty, and the thought called forth another and a deeper sigh. While she was thus employed, Nancy Black opened the door unperceived, and, standing at her side, awoke her from her dream of despondency by saying, in a half whispering, half faltering voice--"Elspeth, dinna break your heart. I think I ken where you'll get a house, noo. I was speaking about you, the day, to Geordie Chrighton, at the school, an' he says they could soon mak a house o' their auld barn; and that his faither will never hesitate"----

To this the mother was listening, and almost thinking the news too good for being true, when the speaker was interrupted by some one coming against the inner door of the apartment with such force as nearly to break it. On hearing the noise, the widow rose to give the stranger admittance; but he waited not for her services. Putting one hand to his nose--the part which had produced the noise--and the other to the latch, before another second had elapsed, George Chrighton stood in the middle of the floor, panting from the rapidity of his march; and, without taking time to recover breath, he began to deliver his message by saying--"Elspeth, my father sent me owre to tell ye that, if ye want a house, ye may get our auld barn. Jock's to bring a cartful o' clay--he's to mak the cats the morn; I'm to bide at hame frae the school, an' carry them in; an' my faither's to put up the lum. An'--what is't I was gaun to say?--ou ay--tak it--tak it, Elspeth; an', if he'll no gie ye it for naething, I'll keep a' the bawbees I get, to help ye to pay for't." Here he paused, fairly out of breath. The substance of his message, however, was delivered, and he now stood silent, and almost fearful of hearing that she had already got a house.

The widow, bewildered by her own feelings, the excited manner of the boy, and the intelligence which he brought, was also silent. Nor was it till Nancy Black had whispered, "It's true enough--Geordie never tells lies," that she recollected it was her part to make a reply.

Hitherto the boy had not been aware of the presence of his schoolfellow; but no sooner had he heard her voice, than his eye brightened, and he turned as if to seek the reward of his labours from her; and--girl as she was--he found it in her approving smile. But that smile was of short duration; for as soon as she had a full view of his face, it pa.s.sed away, and, hurrying toward him, she exclaimed, in an anxious tone--"What ails you, Geordie? What's that on your upper lip, an' your chin?"

"What is't?" repeated the youngster, drawing the back of his hand across the place alluded to, as if to ascertain if anything was wrong in that quarter; and then, examining the hand so employed, he continued--"What is't? It's bluid; but where it comes frae I canna tell." After a short pause, during which he recollected the opposition he had met from the door--"It's my nose--it's just my nose," he added, laughing as he spoke, to free the heart of Nancy from those apprehensions, the shade of which he saw gathering on her countenance.

"I didna ken the door was steekit afore my nose played crack on the sneck--and noo it's bluidin."

Sure enough, his nose was bleeding, and had been so ever since he came in, though un.o.bserved. The attention of the widow and Nancy was instantly directed to staunch the bleeding: the latter brought the key from the outer door, and the former placed it between his shoulders, bathing his temples at the same time with cold water. In a few minutes the blood ceased to flow, and, after his face had been washed, Nancy's smile returned.

When they were about to depart, the widow, taking one in each hand, and drawing them close together, said--"May G.o.d bless ye baith, my bonny bairns! An', in his ain way an' time, He _will_ bless ye; for, when men and women had forsaken me, an' my heart was sinking in despair, ye have provided a hame for the widow and the faitherless. May His blessing rest on ye, an' may He be your friend when ither friends forsake you!"

The _clay-cats_ were made, and carried in, in the manner proposed; the lum was constructed, and the old barn made as commodious as possible; and, in a few days after, Elspeth and her two children came to inhabit it. But though it was only intended for a temporary residence, when a twelvemonth had pa.s.sed, she did not leave it. She had made herself useful in many ways to the farmer, by a.s.sisting him with his farm-work; and, as both felt loath to part, she became a sort of fixture on the farm of Sunnybraes.

There is still one circ.u.mstance connected with her removal, which must be noticed. Mr. Black, in general, did little to deserve commendation; but he could not endure the idea of any one becoming more popular than himself; and, as William Chrighton was warmly praised for his conduct in this affair, he soon began to regard him with a feeling which was more akin to deep-rooted hatred than ill-will.

We now pa.s.s over a period of six years, during which nothing of importance occurred--save that those who, at the commencement of this period, had been mere infants, were now boys and girls; those who had been boys and girls, were now men and women; and of those who had then been men and women, many were now in their graves. Nor of those who remained had a single individual escaped, without having undergone some change. In some, the gaiety of youth had been exchanged for the thoughtful expression of maturer years; upon the foreheads of others, grey hairs were seen where glossy ringlets were wont to wave; the rosy hue which had once adorned the cheek, was now broken into streaks; and on brows formerly smooth, the handwriting of care was now visible.

About this time, Sir Patrick Felspar, after being absent for a number of years, paid a short visit to his tenants. On coming to Sunnybraes, and expressing himself highly satisfied with William Chrighton's manner of farming and general management, that individual thought it a favourable opportunity for introducing Elspeth and her two children to his notice.

The story seemed to affect him, and he immediately proposed taking the boy into his own service. This proposal was agreed to; and, at his departure, Sandy Roger accompanied him to London, where we must leave him.

George Chrighton, though only a schoolboy when we last noticed him, was now a stout-looking, well-built young man, rather above the middle size, and, for some time past, he had been his father's only a.s.sistant at Sunnybraes. Nor was the change which had been produced on Nancy Black less conspicuous. From being a mere girl, in the course of six years she had become a beautiful maiden, in the last of her teens, and with a natural modesty, which, though it added greatly to her other charms, almost unfitted her for the situation she occupied in her father's household. Of this youthful pair, it was generally surmised in the neighbourhood, that the attachment which had begun in their school days, had "grown with their growth, and strengthened with their strength,"

till it had ripened into love.

Such surmises have often been made before, upon occasions where there was not even the shadow of a foundation for them. But, in the present instance, the gossips and tattlers were not so far wrong; for the two were really lovers, though, from the implacable temper of Mr. Black, they found it necessary to conceal their affection; and, for two years more, in as far as an open confession is concerned, they did conceal it.

They were not, however, wholly without their "stolen interviews," which, though "few and far between," with the additional disadvantage of being _short_, were, in this case, sufficient to keep the flame alive. They also found means of occasionally exchanging notices of each other upon _paper_--that _dernier resort_ of all unfortunate lovers.

Catherine Roger, who had hitherto been thought and spoken of as the _la.s.sie Kate_, was now beginning to expand into the young woman, and--smitten with her charms, as wise people began to suppose--Andrew Sharp, one of Mr. Black's farm-servants, had, of late, become rather a regular visitor at her mother's. At first, he came with a quant.i.ty of worsted, "to see if she would knit a pair of stockings for him;" next, he "came to see if she would darn the heels of a pair of stockings;"

and, by and by, he sometimes ventured to "come owre, just to speer for her." While his business was thus, to all appearance, exclusively with the mother, he frequently found an opportunity of stealing a look at the daughter, or, more fortunate still, of exchanging a word with her, as if by the by. It is probable, however, that the former--

"Wi' a woman's wyles, could spy What made the youth sae bashfu an' sae grave;"

and, whatever her fears might be, there is no reason to doubt that she was

"Weel pleased to see her bairn respected like the lave."

Andrew, though young, was by no means deficient in shrewdness; he was naturally of an obliging turn--a quiet conscientious lad--a great favourite with his young mistress, and he was sometimes made the bearer of those paper messengers which went between the lovers.

The leases of both farms were now within a year of being out, and both the farmers had begun to use what interest they could to have them renewed. As to the success of William Chrighton, those who pretended to see farther than their neighbours, shook their heads, and seemed uncertain; but of Mr. Black being successful, no one seemed to entertain the smallest doubt. Sir Patrick, of late, had left the management of those matters wholly to his factor, Mr. Goosequill; and, in the esteem of this individual, Mr. Black now stood deservedly high. Scarcely a month had been allowed to pa.s.s, for the last two years, without a present of poultry, eggs, b.u.t.ter, or cheese being sent from Nettlebank to the factor. Upon these occasions, Gilbert was commonly the bearer, and he always stayed over night, and either drank toddy with the representative of the laird, or poured flatteries into the ear of Miss Grizzy, his daughter. At these doings, far-sighted people shook their heads again, and said that Mr. Black's hens were never sold in a rainy day, except to serve some purpose, and darkly hinted at the possibility of his taking both farms.

Shortly after these matters began to be agitated, the old knight died, and was succeeded by his son, who had always been spoken of on the estate as the _young laird_. It was further understood that the young Sir Patrick had been abroad for the last nine months; and, according to the accounts which were circulated, he was not expected home for several months to come. This circ.u.mstance afforded an excuse to Mr. Goosequill for declining to renew the lease of Sunnybraes, as he alleged that he could not do so till he had positive instructions from the young laird to that effect. At the end of four months, a letter from Sandy Roger informed his mother that Sir Patrick had returned to London shortly after his father's death; and, since his return, that he had treated him with a degree of kindness such as he had never expected to experience from a master. The game was now up; and the factor, finding that it was so, despatched the following letter to the laird:--

"SIR,--As you have been graciously pleased to continue that trust which your much-lamented father was pleased to repose in me--a trust which, from my knowledge of local affairs, I hope I shall be able to discharge with honour to myself and advantage to you--and as the leases of your farms of Nettlebank and Sunnybraes expire at Martinmas ensuing, I should hold myself wanting in that interest which I have ever felt for the prosperity of the family, if I did not acquaint you of the following particulars. William Chrighton, the present tenant of Sunnybraes, has now made application to have the lease of that farm renewed; but, as he is a man of no substance, belongs to the old school, is incapable of conducting improvements upon an extensive scale, and merely struggles on from year to year, I have declined to give him any answer till I should know what was your pleasure thereanent. I have also received an offer for the said farm from Mr. Black, bearing an advance of rent.

This gentleman is in a thriving way; he has a turn for business, and everything prospers with him; he has extensive connections, and, what is of more importance to the present purpose, he has a son of age to take the management of a farm, who is an excellent agriculturist. Mr. Black proposes to take both farms--Nettlebank at the old rent, and the other at an advance; and, if his offers are accepted, I have no hesitation in saying that he will soon improve this portion of your estate to a great extent. I would therefore recommend him to your notice. Hoping that _that_ knowledge of local affairs which I have acquired from long experience, may still be of some service to you, I am, Sir, your very humble servant,

"GAVIN GOOSEQUILL."

To this communication, the factor, in due time, received the following laconic reply:--

"Sir,--I thank you for your friendly advice, and the attention to my concerns which you manifest; but, as it is my wish that the old tenants should remain, you may let Messrs. Chrighton and Henderson have their farms at the old rent, if they choose.--Yours,

"P. FELSPAR."

This entirely disconcerted the schemes of these friends. Mr. Henderson was the tenant who had been in Nettlebank before Mr. Black; and the young laird, who had not been in Scotland since he was four years of age, as yet knew nothing of his having left it. Gavin Goosequill felt rather at a loss how to proceed; but, recollecting that "in the mult.i.tude of counsellers there is safety," he determined to consult Mr.

Black, and, for this purpose, paid a visit to Nettlebank. What was the result of this consultation is not exactly known; but, as Mr. Black shook hands with the factor, and was about to bid him "good night,"

Andrew Sharp, who stood waiting with the horse, heard the latter say--"Well, I think we have it after all. I shall delay matters as long as I can, and then write, recommending farther delay; this will give us time to do something, and, if I am not deceived, both will be yours in the end."

The oracular words "do something," and "both will be yours," made an impression on Andrew's mind. When he reflected on the expiration of the leases, the character of his master, and the surmises which he had heard, he felt convinced that the first part of the factor's speech had a reference to the farms, while the last part of it implied some plot, which was hatching, to forward their schemes. This conviction suggested the probability that William Chrighton would not be allowed to remain in Sunnybraes; and, as his removal must be attended with the removal of Catherine Roger, to he knew not how great a distance, he felt somewhat spiritless and disconcerted. Time seemed to stand still; and, after ruminating for a season on the means of averting such a misfortune, he took a pair of stockings, and, having placed them on the hearthstone of his bothie--no one being present--he proceeded to pound that part of them called the _heels_ with the head of the poker. By this means, he soon produced something very like a worn hole in each; and then, taking them under his arm, and putting a quant.i.ty of worsted into his pocket, he set off to Sunnybraes to get them darned. When there, as his "dulness" did not leave him so quickly as he had antic.i.p.ated, and as he was, moreover, loath to sit silent in the presence of one whose good opinion he was so anxious to procure, while Elspeth was darning the stockings, he told Catherine the whole story--what he had heard the factor say, and the conclusions and inferences which he had drawn therefrom--taking care, however, neither to mention his "dulness," nor the manner in which he had produced the holes in the heels of his stockings.

"Weel, la.s.sie," said Elspeth when he was gone, "frae what we ken aboot Mr. Black, the thing's clear enough. He's lookin after Sunnybraes for his muckle gomeril o' a son; an', if Gavin Goosequill can get it for him, by hook or by crook, by lies or by true tales, he'll no want it lang. The hens, an' the jucks, an' the geese, an' the turkeys, that gaed frae Nettlebank, hae done their _errand_ weel enough, I warrant them; an' noo we maun try to do oors--at least, we maun _try_--to help them that hae been helpers to baith you an' me."

"But hoo can we help them, mither?" inquired Catherine, with a look of surprise--"what can we do?"

"I'll tell ye what we can do, la.s.sie," rejoined her mother; "the young laird will never hear a word o' truth aboot either his farmers or his farms. It's easy for Gavin Goosequill to stap his head as fu' o' lies as it can haud; an', when this is done, it's but saying that the laird wants Mr. Black to get baith the farms; an' syne, Mr. Chrighton, an' you an' me too, maun flit. Noo, as your brither, Sandy, is the young laird's servant, ye maun e'en try if ye can write a letter to him, an' tell him o' a' this ongaun. Though it's no very weel written, he'll maybe mak oot to read it; an', if he's no sair changed since he left his mother an'

his hame, _he'll_ tell the laird the truth."

Catherine was ready to comply with her mother's proposal. A letter was accordingly written; and, after being closed with a piece of shoemakers'

rosin, instead of wax, and supplied with an address by George Chrighton, it was, on the following day, put in the post-office. In about three weeks from the date of this letter, though no answer was returned to it, Mr. Goosequill received the following note from the laird, which appears to have been an answer to another communication of his.

"DEAR SIR,--I have received yours of the 1st August; and I am now convinced that the affair requires delay and serious consideration.

I shall endeavour to turn your advice to some account; and, in the meantime, you need give yourself no farther trouble about the letting of the farms.--Yours, P. FELSPAR.

"P.S.--You may a.s.sure the tenants that neither of them will suffer injustice at my hands."

Things now appeared favourable; but, as Mr. Goosequill seldom trusted more to appearances than was necessary, he took an early opportunity of calling upon William Chrighton, to say that "he believed any farther application on his part for the farm would be useless, and must only tend to irritate the laird." He hinted, farther, that, if Sir Patrick should raise an action against him, he might get heavy damages for the bad repair in which the steading then was. After having expended a good deal of learning and law-Latin in ill.u.s.trating this subject, Mr.

Goosequill concluded, by saying, that, so far as he could judge from his last communication, and as Sir Patrick was a proud man, and could not endure to be thwarted in his plans, the best course he could adopt was, simply, to pay his rent, and quit the farm at Martinmas.

To these proposals the old farmer demurred. "I have always paid my rent on rent-day," said he; "I have made many improvements upon the farm to enable me to pay that rent; and for the steading, though I am not bound to keep it in repair, by building a new barn and cart-sheds, at my own expense, I have made it worth at least sixty pounds more than it was at the beginning of the tack. Now," continued he, "I can see no reason the laird can have for being _irritated_ at me for endeavouring to keep possession of the farm on which I was born, and on which I have lived till I am growing an old man."

"You may do as you please," said Mr. Goosequill, gravely--"only I have warned you; and, if you are determined to persist, you may save yourself the trouble of writing; for I have Sir Patrick's authority for saying that he is coming down to Scotland to settle these matters himself."

Having thus counselled, he adjourned to Nettlebank, where he no doubt counselled more; but through this labyrinth we shall not follow him.

Only Andrew Sharp, who again brought out his horse, heard him say, as he was about to depart, "Well, I think I have the old scrub for the new barn, and, in the meantime, Mr. Gilbert, who is really a smart lad, must try to do a little."

"Fear not for him," rejoined the other; "he knows what he is working for--Miss Grizzy's fair face is worth wanting an hour's sleep for ony time."

Many of our readers will still recollect the disastrous harvest of 1817: October was begun before harvest-work commenced at all; and, after it did commence, day after day the rain poured down as if the sky had been an ocean supported by a sieve. It was after an evening of storm and darkness had succeeded to one of these distressing days, that a stranger arrived at Nettlebank, and requested lodgings for the night. The servant girl, who opened the door, said, "She wouldna let him in, but she would tell her master." Her master accordingly came, and, without ceremony, told him to begone, for he harboured no wandering vagabonds about his _town_.

The stranger attempted to plead his ignorance of the country and the darkness of the night, as excuses for being allowed to remain; but Mr.

Black cut him short, by telling him, in a tone which was distinctly heard at the farthest corner of the house, to march off, or he would instantly unchain the house-dog and set loose the terriers, and let them make a supper of him. Oaths and abusive language followed; but the stranger did not wait to hear more. He had proceeded as far as the corner of the garden wall, where a wicket gate communicated with the front door, and was muttering vengeance to himself, when he was accosted by Nancy.

"I am sorry," said she, "we cannot give you lodgings for the night--my father is so pa.s.sionate; but here is something to help you on your journey." The stranger seemed unwilling to take the shilling, which she was attempting to put into his hand. "It is hardly worth your acceptance," said she; "but it is all I have at present. I cannot tell how much I feel on your account--exposed as you have been to the rain.

But, as this is no night for a stranger to be abroad in, only come with me a few steps, till I can procure a guide to conduct you to the next farm, where you will find shelter."