Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 11

by Unknown

The night was one which, in most respects, seemed to accord with the sorrowful feelings of the little party at Gairyburn. It was gloomy and silent; while the snow continued to accumulate around the house, as if to exclude everything which might have a tendency to disturb their recollections of the solemn scene in which they had been so lately engaged. At times, a sort of conversation, carried on in subdued tones, prevailed for a season; and then it was followed by considerable intervals of silence, broken only by an occasional sigh, a casual observation on the stillness of the night, or an injunction to stir the fire. Anon, the colloquial powers of the party seemed to gather strength from the repose which they had been permitted to enjoy; and the discourse was again renewed, to continue for a season, and then to flag, as it had done before. In most respects, this conversation bore a striking resemblance to the evening fire of the poor widow, which is only kept alive by an occasional handful of brushwood thrown upon the expiring embers; after which it emits a flickering flame for a short while, and then gradually decays, till the last spark is scarcely perceptible, and it is only prevented from utter extinction by a repetition of the same process.

In one of these intervals of silence, Betsy Braikens had gone to the door—partly to pass the time which hung so heavily, and partly to see if there was any prospect of being able to travel in the morning. While thus reconnoitring, her attention was attracted by a whistle, followed by a faint cry for assistance, which, though evidently at a distance, was, owing to the stillness of the night, distinctly heard. This made her listen more attentively. The whistle and the cry were repeated, which satisfied her that they proceeded from some one in distress; and she now thought it time to give notice of what she had heard to those within. On hearing the circumstance, her brother and cousin immediately set off in the direction which she had pointed out; and in a short time they returned, bringing along with them a stranger, who had lost his way when it grew dark; and, after having wandered for several hours among the hills, without knowing where he was going, had at last stumbled over a bank into a miry slough, where, as he was unable to extricate himself from the mud, he would in all probability have perished, but for the assistance which he had received.

The care of ministering to the new guest devolved principally upon Betsy Braikens, who had been the first to give notice of his previous distress; and for such an office she was better qualified than any other female who, at the time, could have been found, within several miles—both from that knowledge of the conventionalities of society which she had acquired during her residence in Perth, and from a disposition which was naturally kind. With that alacrity which is common to her sex, she made the necessary preparations for enabling him to shift such parts of his clothes as were wet. A repast calculated to refresh him, after the fatigues of his journey, was next provided; and, as there was no inn or other place of accommodation within reach, and the night was one in which no stranger could find his way, she represented the necessity of his remaining where he was till morning; and then he might travel with her and her brother, if he chanced to be journeying in that direction; and, if his road was different, he would at least have the advantage of daylight to direct his steps.

To this proposal the stranger did not seem to be averse. In such circumstances, men are often more grateful for a mere trifle than, in others, they would be for the greatest favours. He seemed highly sensible of the kindness with which he was treated, and soon began to regard his entertainers with a feeling of respect. Upon further conversation, it was discovered that his name was Robert Walker—that he was the son of the Glasgow merchant whoso failure has been already noticed as having been prejudicial to the interests of James Braikens; and, on learning that he was in the society of one who had been in the habit of dealing with his father, he proceeded to give them a brief sketch of his story.

After his prospects had been obscured by the bankruptcy of his father, he had succeeded in procuring for himself a situation in Aberdeen; and, as he was a good pedestrian—and had, moreover, a liking for rural scenery, rural manners, and unfrequented roads—these considerations, backed by motives of economy, had induced him to undertake the journey on foot. He had accordingly proceeded by Kinross, intending to make his line as straight as possible, without paying much attention to the highways; and, on reaching the village of Strathmiglo, he had been directed across a part of the Ochils as the nearest road to Newburgh—at which part he intended to cross the Tay. He had taken these directions, and pushed forward, in the expectation that he would reach the last-mentioned place before it was late; but the snow coming on, he soon lost all traces of the road, and, what was worse, he soon after lost everything like an idea of what direction he was travelling in. He had, however, no alternative but to proceed. Exertion was indispensable to prevent his limbs from being benumbed with cold; but the dense fall of snow prevented him from seeing any distant object upon which he might direct his course, and thus arrive at some place of shelter. In this state of uncertainty, he had wandered he neither knew where nor how long, when—stumbling over the bank, as already noticed, and being unable to extricate himself—he was beginning to fear that he had reached the end of his journey before his deliverers reached him.

On the following morning, which was fair, though the clouds still appeared to be far from having discharged the whole of their contents, the stranger was easily induced to accompany Betsy Braikens and her brother to Perth—alleging, as his reason for doing so, a wish to see the town, and the possibility of his being there able to procure some mode of conveying himself to Aberdeen less laborious than travelling had now become. They accordingly set forward together; but before they had reached the head of Abernethy Glen, the snow again began to fall, accompanied by gusts of wind, which whirled whole wreaths into the air at once, and drove the dazzling particles before them with such violence, that suffocation seemed to be the inevitable consequence of being long exposed to the fury of the storm. In a short time the snow had accumulated to such a depth in the hollows as to render travelling a most laborious operation; and it was with some difficulty that the party reached the domicile of Andrew Braikens, where they thought it best to take shelter for the present, and postpone their further journey till the weather should be more favourable. The storm continued for nearly forty-eight hours without intermission, so that, dating from the time at which they set out, it was not till the evening of the third day that they reached Perth.

Whatever loss in the way of business this delay might have occasioned, the merchant found, on his arrival, that it was only his absence which had saved him from being declared bankrupt, and, in all probability, imprisoned for debt at the same time. But, on the previous day, one of his most clamorous creditors had been suddenly taken ill. A temporary respite was thus obtained; and, with the assistance of Robert Walker, who exerted all his oratorical powers in his behalf, matters were again patched up, and he was allowed to go on with the concerns of his shop as before. These things being settled, this new friend strenuously advised him to retain his business if possible, assuring him, at the same time, that there was nothing like perseverance, and then went on his way, whither we follow him not.

At Gairyburn things went on much in the same way as they had done before, except that the management of the house was now committed to the care of a servant-girl. But some circumstances soon transpired which led the people around to suppose that the girl might, in due time, be promoted to be mistress of what at present she only managed for another. Sandy Crawford had bought rather a better suit of mournings for Jenny Jervis than it was common to give to a servant; and this, along with a number of other incidents and occurrences, too minute to be enumerated here, but not so minute as to escape the notice of a country population, was made the subject of discussion at the firesides of the neighbouring cottages. But as neither men nor women, since the world began, were ever known to agree about either religion or politics, or any other important matter whatever, so here there was a difference of opinion; and many were the conferences and disputes which ensued. With one party, the buying of the gown, and the other corroborating circumstances, were deemed incontestable evidence; and they affirmed that Sandy and Jenny only waited till the proper season for laying aside their mournings, to be married. In this marriage they saw, or at least fancied they could see, such a number of advantages as would render it most desirable. "Jenny," they said, "was a thrifty lassie, and wad mak a guid wife. She kenned a' about the management o' the kye, and she wad aye hae her mither at hand to apply to in ony strait." Another party differed from them entirely, both as to the conclusiveness of the evidence, and the advantages to be derived from the marriage. "The buyin o' the gown," they maintained, "was naething. Jenny Jervis was a young, thoughtless lassie, wha wad be soon aneugh married four or five years hence; and they were sure Sandy wad be far better wi' his cousin Betsy, wha was baith a weel-faured and a weel-conditioned cummer, and had some experience in the management o' a house." They said, further, that "Betsy, they were sure, wad be the woman; for Sandy was a thoughtfu callant; and though he might be led awa, for a time, wi' twa blue een, a slender waist, and the red and white on a lassie's face, he wad soon come to see that ither things were needfu to a man fechtin for his bread, and strugglin for the rent o' a farm." A third party presumed to differ from both of these in every particular save one. They admitted, indeed, that Sandy "was a thoughtfu callant;" but from that very admission they drew a quite contrary conclusion. "Baith Betsy and Jenny," they averred, "might remain single lang aneugh for him; and if he ever took a wife ava, they were sure it wadna be in ony hurry." They also pointed out several advantages which were likely to accrue to him from adopting this theory, and several disadvantages which would infallibly result from his adoption of any other. "The place," they said, "was but sma', and the rent high; and as lang as he had only a servant, he had naething but her bit year's wage to pay at the term. But, were he to tak a wife, he wad hae to get new beds, and new chairs, and a hantle whigmaleeries forby, that wad cost him nae little siller; he wad hae to buy fykes to her in ilka market, and in ilka shop he cam past—not to mention bairns' meat and bairns' claes—mair o' baith, maybe, than the place wad afford." Thus, as the great political world is at present divided into Tories, Whigs, and Radicals, this little sequestered district was divided into parties, which, for the sake of distinction, we shall denominate Jervisines, Braikenites, and Malthusians.

Though Betsy Braikens had not been at Gairyburn for several years before the death of her aunt, after that occurrence she continued to pay occasional visits there; and it was observed, by those who knew and could interpret the signs of the times, that her cousin always looked more thoughtful for a day or two after she went away, than was his usual. This seemed to favour the theory of the Jervisines, who said that he was pestered with her visits, and did not know how to get quit of her. The Braikenites, on the other hand, maintained, that, if he did not give her some encouragement, she would not return so often; and that his thoughtful looks were occasioned by regret at her absence.

Several months after the death of Margaret Crawford, and just as the first party were beginning to be certain that their theory was the correct one, and that they would, ere long, obtain a notable victory over their opponents, both Betsy and her brother paid a visit to Gairyburn. They stayed a night and a day with their cousin; and, after they had taken their departure, it was observed that he looked more thoughtful than he had done on any former occasion, with the additional aggravation of his thoughtfulness not passing away in a day or two, as it had done before. At the end of a fortnight, the neighbours said to each other—"Preserve us a'! saw ye ever sic an alteration as has come owre Sandy Crawford! He's surely seen something that's no canny, and daurna speak aboot it." At the end of a month, they might have made the same observation; but by that time they had become accustomed to the change, and they only said—"Puir fellow! he's as sair altered as though that cummer frae Perth had ta'en awa his last penny."