I found my host sitting as was his wont—his nightcap on his head, his long staff in his hand, and two greyhounds at his feet—behind the fire upon his oaken settle. “I’m thinkin’, Willie,” he began as he saw me enter—“I’m thinkin’ ye hae catched a wet sark. Janet, lass, fetch your cusin a dram. Nane o’ your piperly smellin’ bottles,” cried he, as she produced some cordials in an ancient liquor-stand—“Nane o’ your auld wife’s jaups for ane o’ my name—fetch something purpose-like; for when my nevoy has changed himsell, we’ll hae a stoup o’ whisky, and a crack thegither.” In a few minutes I was seated in dry clothes, before a bowl of punch and a blazing fire, beside the old gentleman on his oaken sofa. At any other time I would have enjoyed the scene with infinite satisfaction; for the national tipple, in my mind, drinks nowhere so pleasantly as on a bench behind the broad hearthstone of such a kitchen-hall as my friend’s. Our smaller gentry had, it is true, long since betaken themselves to their parlours and their drawing-rooms; and the steams of whisky-punch had already risen with the odours of bohea, and the smoke of sea-borne coals, to the damask hangings and alabaster cornices of many high-ceiled and stately apartments. Yet there were still some of the old school, who, like my good friend, continued to make their headquarters, after the ancient fashion, among their own domestics, and behind their own hearthstone; for in all old houses the fire is six feet at least from the gable, and the space between is set apart for the homely owner.
It was strange then, that I, who hitherto had so intensely relished such a scene, should be so absent now that it was spread round me in its perfection. The peat and bog-fir fire before me, and the merry faces glistening through the white smoke beyond; the chimney overhead, like some great minster bell (the huge hanging pot for the clapper); the antlers, broadsword, and sporting tackle on the wall behind; the goodly show of fat flitches and briskets around me and above, and that merry and wise old fellow, glass in hand, with endless store of good stories, pithy sayings, and choice points of humour, by my side; yet with all I sat melancholy and ill at ease. In vain did the rare old man tell me his best marvels; how he once fought with Tom Hughes, a wild Welshman, whom he met in a perilous journey through the forests of Cheshire; how Tom would not let go his grip when he had him down (“whilk was a foul villany”); and how he had to roll into a running water before he could get loose (“whilk showed the savage natur of thae menseless barbarians”). In vain he told me that pleasant jest, how my grandfather “ance wiled the six excisemen into a lone house, and then gaed in himsell and pyed them through the windows, whilk cleared the country-side o’ that vermin as lang as auld Redrigs was to the fore.” In vain he told me how his old dog Stretcher hunted the black hare from Dunmoss to Skyboe. I left him in the subtlest of the doubles, and in another minute was in the penthouse of clay, the river boiling at my feet, and the rain rushing round my head; but before me were the rich delighted eyes and quickening features of my unknown beauty. Again I bore her through the flood; again I bent over her, and pressed her to my breast, and once more in fancy I had felt the thrill of her returned embrace; once more I had kissed her lips, and once more we had vowed to live or die together, when I was startled from my reverie by a question which the unsuspecting old man was now repeating for the third time. I stammered an excuse, and roused myself to the hearing of another excellent jest; but what it might have been I know not, for the entrance of a young labourer, an old acquaintance of my own, with whom he had business, cut it short. “Aleck,” he said, “get ready to set out for the fair upon the morn’s e’en; and, Aleck, my man, keep yoursell out o’ drink and fechtin’—and, my bonny man, I’m saying, the neist time ye gang a-courtin’ to the Grange (I pricked up my ears all at once), see that ye’re no ta’en for ane o’ thae rebel chiels, wha, they say, are burrowin’ e’en noo about the auld wa’s as thick as mice in a meal-ark.”—“But Aleck,” crooned old Mause from the corner, “whilk ane o’ the lasses are you for?” This was enough. I watched my opportunity, slipped out to the stable, found Aleck, who had retreated thither in his confusion, and point-blank proposed that he should take me with him that very night, and introduce me to one of the girls at Moyabel, as I longed to have an hour’s courting after the old fashion before I left the country. I concluded by offering him a handsome consideration, which, however, he refused; but, sitting down in the manger, began to consider my proposal, with such head-scratching and nail-biting, as confirmed me in my opinion that there was something mysterious about the family of the Grange. “Master William,” said he at last, “I canna refuse ye, and you gaun awa’, maybe never to see a lass o’ your ain country again; but ye maun promise never to speak o’ whatever ye may see strange aboot the hoose; for, atween oursells, there are anes expeckit there this verra night wha’s names wadna cannily bear tellin’; and Jeanie trusts me, and I maunna beguile her. But the waters are out, and we will hae a lang and cauld tramp through the bogs, sae get a drap o’ somethin’ for the road, and I’ll hae Tam Herron’s Sunday suit ready for you after bed-time. Saul! ye’ll mak a braw weaver wi’ the beard; and wi’ a’ your Englified discoorsin’ ye can talk as like a Christian as ever when ye like. Nanny will think hersell fitted at last; but ye maunna be ower crouse wi’ Nanny, Master William.” I promised everything; waited impatiently till the family had gone to rest; found Aleck true to his engagement; put on the clothes he had prepared, and we stole out about midnight.
It was pitch dark, but fair and calm; so, with the hopes of getting to our journey’s end not wet above the knee, we commenced stumbling and bolting along the great stones and ruts of the causeway; this we cleared without any accident, farther than my slipping once into the ditch, and now found ourselves upon the open hill-side, splashing freely over the soaked turf and slippery pathway. I was in high spirits, and though squirting the black puddle to my knees at every step, and seeing no more of the road I was to travel on than another one in advance, yet faced onward with great gaiety and good humour. After some time, however, Aleck began snuffing the air, and, with evident concern, announced the approach of a mist, which soon thickened into perceptibility to me also. Our path, which hitherto had swept across sheep-grazing uplands and grassy knolls, now began to thread deep rushy bottoms, with here and there a quaking spot of quagmire, or a mantled stream, which I knew by the cold water running sharp below, and by the thick, dull gathering of the weeds about my legs—for the mist made all so dark, that I can only give a blind man’s description. The way now became more intricate and broken, but still I followed Aleck cheerily, pushing through all obstacles, and thinking only of the best measures to be taken when we should arrive at Moyabel, when I suddenly perceived that my footsteps were treading down the long wet grass and heavy sedge itself, and that any distinct pathway no longer remained to guide us. I began to doubt Aleck’s knowledge of the road, which he still maintained to be unshaken; but the next two steps settled the matter, by bringing us both up to the middle in a running river. We scrambled out without saying a word, Aleck being silent from confusion, and I fearing to increase it by reproaches. He began to grope about for the path we had come by; and finding what he thought our track, pursued it a few steps to the right. I thought I had it to the left, and began to explore in that direction. “Hallo! where are you now?” I cried, as I missed him from my side. He answered, “Here,” from a considerable distance lower down. “Where?” I repeated.—“Hereawa,” he answered.—“Hereawa, thereawa, wandering Willie,” I hummed in bitter jollity, as I proceeded in the direction of the voice, “Hereawa, thereawa, haud your way hame,” when—squash, crash, bolt, heels over head—plump I went over a brow into a very Devil’s Punch-Bowl; for bottom I found none, though shot from the bank with the impetus of an arrow. Down I went, the water closing over me in strata and substrata, each one colder than the other, till I expected to find my head at last clashing against the young ice wedges of a preternatural frost below. I sank at least fifteen feet before I could collect my energies and turn. I thought I would never reach the top. To it at last I came, sputtering, blown, and fairly frightened. I never waited to consider my course, but striking desperately out, swam straight forward till I came bump against the bank. I clambered up, and listened. The first sound I could distinguish, after the bubbling and hissing left my ears, was Aleck’s voice nearly before me, on the opposite side. He was singing out something between a howl and a halloo; for he also had got into the water, and could not find bottom anywhere but on the spot he occupied. He could not swim a stroke. There was nothing for it but to go back and rescue him. The unexpectedness alone of my first dip had caused my confusion. That was gone off, and I again plunged resolutely into the river, which I now could discern grey in the clearing mist. A few strokes brought me to where the poor fellow stood, with his arms extended upon the water, and his neck stretched to the utmost to keep it out of his mouth. I knew the danger of taking an alarmed man of greater weight and strength than myself upon my back; and therefore, comforting him with assurances of safety, I tried in all directions for bottom, which at last I found; and having sounded the bed of the river to the opposite side, returned, and with some difficulty succeeded in guiding and supporting him across.
The mist was now rapidly thinning away, and I could distinguish the high bank black against the sky. It was a joyful sight, and induced, by a natural association, the pleasant thought of the comforter in my pocket. I took a mighty dram; then feeling for Aleck’s head (he had lain down, streaming like Father Nile in the pictures, among the rushes, at my feet), I directed the bottle’s mouth to his. He had been making his moan in an under-whine ever since I first heard him lamenting his condition on the opposite side; but no sooner did his lips feel the smooth insinuator’s presence, than (his tongue being put out of the way) they closed with instinctive affection, and went together when the long embrace was past, with a smack quite cheering. Then slowly rising, and fetching a deep sigh as he gathered himself together, “Lord, Lord,” said he “I’m nane the waur o’ that. But, Master William, to tell God’s truth, I dinna ken whaur we are. That we hae crossed Glen—— water, or the Hill-head burn, or the Marcher’s dyke, I’m positive sure; but whilk I’m no just equal to say—but there’s somethin’ black atween us and the lift; I judge it to be Dunmoss Cairn: let’s haud on to it, and we maun soon come to biggit wa’s.” So saying, he led me forward in the direction of what seemed to me also a distant hill; but being occupied in placing my footsteps I had ceased to look at it, when all at once there was a crush of leaves about my head, and I found myself under a green tree. “When will this weary night of error have an end?” I mentally exclaimed; but was surprised by Aleck taking my hand, rubbing the palm along the rough stem, and asking in an elate tone what I felt? “A damnably rough bark,” growled I; “what do you mean?” He cut a caper full three feet into the air. “Here is a pleasant occurrence now—this rascal is drunk—he will roll into the next ditch and suffocate—I shall be the death of the poor fellow—I shall lose”—here he broke my agreeable meditations. “I’ll tell you how it was, Master William; Jeanie and I were partners at the shearin’ (“Evidently drunk,” thought I), and I canna tell how it was (“I well believe you—you can not—but ’twas all my own folly,” I muttered), but I found the maid in a sair fluster that e’en when we parted: (“You’ll be in sorer fluster presently if I begin to you—you drunken idiot!” was my running commentary,) and sae just as I came by this auld thorn”—“Then you do know where you are—do you?” I cried aloud.—“Sure enough,” said he, “for didn’t I carve my heart wi’ Jeanie’s heuk stuck out through it that very night; and isna it here to this minute?”—“Oh, ho, lead on then, in God’s name; but tell me where we are, and how far we have to go.”—“Why,” said he, “the bridge is just a step overby that we ought to hae crossed; and troth, I wonner a dishfu’ at mysell for no kennin’ the black moss and the dolochan’s hole that we hae just come through; for I hae cut turf in the ane, and weshed in the ither, since I was the bouk o’ a peat—but here we are at the end o’ the causey that will take us to the Grange.” We entered on a raised and moated bank, which crossed a mossy flat to the old house; but ere we had advanced a dozen steps, there suddenly appeared a light moving about, and giving occasional glimpses of the white walls and thick trees at the further end; it then came steadily and swiftly towards us; I could presently distinguish the dull beat of hoofs on the greensward, and soon after, the figures of two mounted men.
The sides of the old moat were overgrown with furze and brambles, and we stole into this cover as they approached. The foremost bore the light, was armed at all points, and mounted on a fresh horse. I started with exultation where I lay—he was her father. His companion’s black breeches and canting seat proclaimed a priest. They were conversing as they passed. “Another month, good father, and we will be behind the bastions of Belle Isle; were it not for my Madeline’s sake, I would make it six; but this bloodhound having been slipped upon us.”—The sounds were here lost in the trampling of their horses; I heard the man of masses mumble something in reply, and they wheeled out of hearing up the rugged pathway to the bridge. “Now, mind your promise, Master William,” said Aleck, as we rose and proceeded to the house. We soon arrived there; and he led me to a low wing, repeating his cautions, and, in answer to my questions, denying all knowledge of the strangers. Placing me behind a low wall, he now stole forward and tapped at a window, and presently I heard the inmates moving and whispering. The door was soon opened, and a parley took place, in which I heard my assumed name made honourable mention of by my intruder. He led me forward, pushed me gently before him, and I found myself in a dark passage, soft hands welcoming me, and warm breath playing on my cheek.
The door was closed, and we were led into a wide rude apartment, dim in the low glow of a heap of embers. A splinter of bogwood was soon kindled, and by its light I saw that we had been conducted by two girls. One, whom from her attention to Aleck I concluded to be her of the reaping-hook, was a pretty interesting soft maiden. The other, however, had attractions of a very different class: fine-featured, dark-eyed, coal-black-haired and tall; as she stood—her right hand holding the rude torch over her head, while the left gathered the folds of a long cloak under her bosom, with her eyes of coy expectation and merry amazement—she seemed more the ideal of a robber’s daughter in some old romance, than a menial in a moorland farm-house. I attempted to salute her, but she held me at bay with her hand. “Hech, lad! ye’re no blate—is it knievin’ troots[A] ye think ye are? But, my stars, ye are as droukit as if ye had been through a’ the pools o’ the burn! Sit down, my jo, till we dry ye; and be qu’et till I get a fire.” Peats and bogwood were now heaped upon the hearth; and, kneeling down upon the broad stone, she began puffing away with her pretty puckered mouth; partly, I suppose, because there are no bellows in Glen——; and partly, I took it for granted, to afford me an opportunity of kneeling beside and preeing it. The smoke now rose before me in thick volumes, and for a while I lost sight of Aleck and his Jeanie. By and by, however, on raising my head, I started back at seeing a figure the most extraordinary standing at the further end of the apartment. A blanket covered the shoulders; the feet and legs were bare; a red handkerchief was tied about the head; and, strangest of all, although the hairy neck and whiskers argued him a man, yet was he from the waist to the knees clad in a petticoat!
I started to my feet, visions of sleepwalkers and lunatics thronging through my imagination, but was caught hold of by Nanny, who, shaking with suppressed laughter, whispered me, while the tears ran out and danced upon her long lashes for very fun, that it was only precious Aleck, “wham Jeanie had cled in her bit wyliecoat, since she dauredna wake the house to look for aught else;” then, laying her hand upon my shoulder (and the wet oozed from between her fingers), she proposed, with a maidenly mixture of kindliness and hesitation, that I should go and do so likewise. Who knows how I might have stood the temptation, had she not in time perceived my error, and, blushing deeply, explained, that as Aleck had done—undressed himself alone—so should I. Under these stipulations, I declined parting with more than my coat, for which she substituted a curiously quilted coverlet; then bringing me warm water, insisted on my bathing my feet. I gladly consented; but hardly had I pulled off the coarse stockings, and washed the black soil from my hands, when there began a grievous coughing and grumbling in the room from which the girls had come.
“Lord haud a grip o’ us!” cried Aleck; “it’s auld Peg hoastin’—De’il wauken her, the cankered rush! she’ll breed a bonny splore gin she finds me here.”
“Whisht, whisht,” whispered Nanny, “she’s as keen as colly i’ the lugs; and glegger than baudrons i’ the dark.”
The libelled Mistress Margaret gave no further time for calumniation; slamming open the door, she came down upon us, gaunt, grim, and unescapable—“Ye menseless tawpies! ye bauld cutties! ye wanton limmers! ye—wha’s this?” She snatched the light from Nannie’s hand, and poked it close to my face—“Wha’s this? I say, wha’s this?”