John Burnet of Barns: A Romance

by John Buchan

"O John," she cried, "I knew you would come. I guessed that every footstep was yours, coming to help us. For oh! there have been such terrible times since you went away. How terrible I cannot tell you," and her eyes filled with tears as she looked in mine.

So we sat down by the low window, holding each other's hands, thinking scarce anything save the joy of the other's presence. The primroses were starring the grass without, and the blossom coming thick and fast on the cherry trees. So glad a world it was that it seemed as if all were vanity save a dwelling like the Lotophagi in a paradise of idleness.

But I quickly roused myself. It was no time for making love when the enemy were even now at the gates.

"Marjory, lass," I said, "tell me all that has been done since I went away."

And she told me, and a pitiful tale it was—that which I had heard from Nicol, but more tragic and sad. I heard of her brother's ruin, how the brave, generous gentleman, with a head no better than a weathercock, had gone down the stages to besotted infamy. I heard of Gilbert's masterful knavery, of his wooing at Dawyck, and how he had despoiled the house of Barns. It seemed that he had spent days at Dawyck in the company of Michael Veitch, putting my poor Marjory to such a persecution that I could scarce bide still at the hearing of it. He would importune her night and day, now by gallantry and now by threats. Then he would seek to win her favour by acts of daring, such as he well knew how to do. But mostly he trusted to the influence of her brother, who was his aider and abetter in all things. I marvelled how a gentleman of family could ever sink so low as to be the servant of such cowardice. But so it was, and my heart was sore for all the toils which the poor girl had endured in that great, desolate house, with no certain hope for the future. She durst not write a letter, for she was spied on closely by her tormentors, and if she had bade me return, they well knew I would come with the greatest speed, and so in knowing the time of my arrival, would lay hands on me without trouble. The letter which reached me was sealed under her brother's eyes and the postscript was added with the greatest pains and sent by Tam Todd, who sat at Barns in wrath and impotence. Truly things had gone wrong with a hearty good-will since I had ridden away.

But the matter did not seem much better now that I had returned. I was an outlawed man, with no dwelling and scarce any friends, since the men of my own house were either hostile or powerless to aid. My estates were a prey to my enemies. I had naught to trust to save my own good fortune and a tolerably ready sword, and, to crown all, my love was in the direst danger. If she abode at Dawyck the bitter persecution must be renewed, and that the poor maid should suffer this was more than I could endure. I had no fear of her faithfulness, for I knew of old her steadfast heart and brave spirit, but I feared my cousin as I feared no other on earth. He cared not a fig for the scruples of ordinary men, and he was possessed of a most devilish cunning, before which I felt powerless as a babe. Yet I doubtless wronged him by suspicion, for, after all, he was a Burnet, and fought openly as a man of honour should. But he had a gang of marauding ruffians at his heels, and God alone knew what might happen.

At all events, I must wait till what time my servant Nicol should arrive from Leith. I had no fear of his failing, for he had the readiest wit that ever man had, and I verily believe the longest legs. He should be at Dawyck ere noonday, when he should advise me as to my course. Nor was there any immediate danger pressing, for so long as Gilbert abode at Leith he could not come to Dawyck, and unless our schemes grievously miscarried, he could not yet have been apprised of my escape. Moreover, the soldiers to whom I had given the slip the night before, could as yet have no inkling either of my identity or my present harbour. So for the meantime I was safe to meditate on the future.

Marjory, woman-like, was assured that now I had come back her sorrows were at an end. She would hear nothing of danger to be. "Now that you are here, John," she would say, "I am afraid of nothing. I do not care if Gilbert return and plague me a thousandfold more; I shall well support it if I know that you are in the land. It is for you I fear, for what must you do save go to the hills and hide like the hillmen in caves and peatbogs? It is surely a sad use for your learning, sir."

So the morning passed so quickly that I scarce knew it. We went together to a little turret-room facing the north and fronting the broad avenue which all must pass who come to the house; and here we waited for the coming of Nicol. I felt a fierce regret as I looked away over the woods and meadows to the little ridge of hills beyond which lay Barns, and saw the fair landscape all bathed in spring sunshine. It was so still and peaceful that I felt a great desire to dwell there with Marjory in quiet, and have done forever with brawling and warfare. I had come home from the Low Countries with a longing for the plain country life of Tweeddale, such as I had been bred to. I was prepared in heart to get ready my fishing-rods and see to my guns, and begin again my long-loved sports. But harsh fate had decreed otherwise, and I was to fare forth like a partridge on the mountains, and taste the joys of the chase in a new manner. But at the thought my spirits rose again. I would love dearly to play a game of hide-and-go-seek with my cousin Gilbert, and so long as I had my sword and my wits about me, I did not fear. My one care was Marjory, and this, in truth, was a sore one. I cursed my cousin right heartily, and all his belongings, and vowed, deep down in my heart, to recompense him some day for all his doings.

It is true that all this while it lay open to me to brazen it out before His Majesty's Council, and try to clear my name from guilt. But as the hours passed this method grew more distasteful to me. There I should be in a strange place among enemies and scenes of which I knew nothing. Innocent though I might be, it was more than likely that I should find myself worsted. More, it seemed the gallanter thing to contest the matter alone among the hills, a fight between soldiers, with no solemn knaves to interfere. So by this time I had all but resolved on the course which my servant had first advised.