CHAPTER XX
I CONTINUE TO MOVE IN GOOD SOCIETY
For about exactly two months I remained a guest in Prestongrange'sfamily, where I bettered my acquaintance with the bench, the bar, andthe flower of Edinburgh company. You are not to suppose my education wasneglected, on the contrary I was kept extremely busy. I studied theFrench, so as to be more prepared to go to Leyden; I set myself to thefencing, and wrought hard, sometimes three hours in the day, withnotable advancement; at the suggestion of my cousin, Pilrig, who was anapt musician, I was put to a singing class, and by the orders of my MissGrant, to one for the dancing, at which. I must say I proved far fromornamental. However, all were good enough to say it gave me an address alittle more genteel; and there is no question but I learned to manage mycoat skirts and sword with more dexterity, and to stand in a room asthough the same belonged to me. My clothes themselves were all earnestlyre-ordered; and the most trifling circumstance, such as where I shouldtie my hair, or the colour of my ribbon, debated among the three misseslike a thing of weight. One way with another, no doubt I was a good dealimproved to look at, and acquired a bit of a modish air that would havesurprised the good folks at Essendean.
The two younger misses were very willing to discuss a point of myhabiliment, because that was in the line of their chief thoughts. Icannot say that they appeared any other way conscious of my presence;and though always more than civil, with a kind of heartless cordiality,could not hide how much I wearied them. As for the aunt, she was awonderful still woman; and I think she gave me much the same attentionas she gave the rest of the family, which was little enough. The eldestdaughter and the Advocate himself were thus my principal friends, andour familiarity was much increased by a pleasure that we took in common.Before the court met we spent a day or two at the house of Grange,living very nobly with an open table, and here it was that we threebegan to ride out together in the fields, a practice afterwardsmaintained in Edinburgh, so far as the Advocate's continual affairspermitted. When we were put in a good frame by the briskness of theexercise, the difficulties of the way, or the accidents of bad weather,my shyness wore entirely off; we forgot that we were strangers, andspeech not being required, it flowed the more naturally on. Then it wasthat they had my story from me, bit by bit, from the time that I leftEssendean, with my voyage and battle in the _Covenant_, wanderings inthe heather, etc.; and from the interest they found in my adventuressprung the circumstance of a jaunt we made a little later on, a day whenthe courts were not sitting, and of which I will tell a trifle more atlength.
We took horse early, and passed first by the house of Shaws, where itstood smokeless in a great field of white frost, for it was yet early inthe day. Here Prestongrange alighted down, gave me his horse, andproceeded alone to visit my uncle. My heart, I remember, swelled upbitter within me at the sight of that bare house and the thought of theold miser sitting chittering within in the cold kitchen.
"There is my home," said I. "And my family."
"Poor David Balfour!" said Miss Grant.
What passed during the visit I have never heard; but it would doubtlessnot be very agreeable to Ebenezer; for when the Advocate came forthagain his face was dark.
"I think you will soon be the laird indeed, Mr. Davie," says he, turninghalf about with the one foot in the stirrup.
"I will never pretend sorrow," said I; and, to say the truth, during hisabsence Miss Grant and I had been embellishing the place in fancy withplantations, parterres, and a terrace, much as I have since carried outin fact.
Thence we pushed to the Queensferry, where Rankeillor gave us a goodwelcome, being indeed out of the body to receive so great a visitor.Here the Advocate was so unaffectedly good as to go quite fully over myaffairs, sitting perhaps two hours with the Writer in his study, andexpressing (I was told) a great esteem for myself and concern for myfortunes. To while this time, Miss Grant and I and young Rankeillor tookboat and passed the Hope to Limekilns. Rankeillor made himself veryridiculous (and, I thought offensive) with his admiration for the younglady, and to my wonder (only it is so common a weakness of her sex) sheseemed, if anything, to be a little gratified. One use it had: for whenwe were come to the other side, she laid her commands on him to mind theboat, while she and I passed a little further to the ale-house. This washer own thought, for she had been taken with my account of AlisonHastie, and desired to see the lass herself. We found her once morealone--indeed, I believe her father wrought all day in the fields--andshe curtsied dutifully to the gentry-folk and the beautiful young ladyin the riding coat.
"Is this all the welcome I am to get?" said I, holding out my hand. "Andhave you no more memory of old friends?"
"Keep me! wha's this of it?" she cried, and then, "God's truth, it's thetautit[19] laddie!"
"The very same," says I.
"Mony's the time I've thocht upon you and your freen, and blythe am I tosee in your braws,"[20] she cried. "Though I kent ye were come to yourain folk by the grand present that ye sent me and that I thank ye forwith a' my heart."
"There," said Miss Grant to me, "run out by with ye, like a good bairn.I didnae come here to stand and hand a candle; it's her and me that areto crack."
I suppose she stayed ten minutes in the house, but when she came forth Iobserved two things--that her eyes were reddened, and a silver broochwas gone out of her bosom. This very much affected me.
"I never saw you so well adorned," said I.
"O Davie man, dinna be a pompous gowk!" said she, and was more thanusually sharp to me the remainder of the day.
About candlelight we came home from this excursion.
For a good while I heard nothing further of Catriona: my Miss Grantremaining quite impenetrable, and stopping my mouth with pleasantries.At last, one day that she returned from walking and found me alone inthe parlour over my French, I thought there was something unusual in herlooks; the colour heightened, the eyes sparkling high, and a bit of asmile continually bitten in as she regarded me. She seemed indeed likethe very spirit of mischief, and walking briskly in the room, had sooninvolved me in a kind of quarrel over nothing and (at the least) withnothing intended on my side. I was like Christian in the slough; themore I tried to clamber out upon the side, the deeper I became involved;until at last I heard her declare, with a great deal of passion, thatshe would take that answer at the hands of none, and I must down upon myknees for pardon.
The causelessness of all this fuff stirred my own bile. "I have saidnothing you can properly object to," said I, "and as for my knees, thatis an attitude I keep for God."
"And as a goddess I am to be served!" she cried, shaking her brown locksat me and with a bright colour. "Every man that comes within waft of mypetticoats shall use me so!"
"I will go so far as ask your pardon for the fashion's sake, although Ivow I know not why," I replied. "But for these play-acting postures, youcan go to others."
"O Davie!" she said. "Not if I was to beg you?"
I bethought me I was fighting with a woman, which is the same as to saya child, and that upon a point entirely formal.
"I think it a bairnly thing," I said, "not worthy in you to ask, or meto render. Yet I will not refuse you, neither," said I; "and the stain,if there be any, rests with yourself." And at that I kneeled fairlydown.
"There!" she cried. "There is the proper station, there is where I havebeen manoeuvring to bring you." And then, suddenly, "Kep,"[21] said she,flung me a folded billet, and ran from the apartment laughing.
The billet had neither place nor date. "Dear Mr. David," it began, "Iget your news continually by my cousin, Miss Grant, and it is a pleisandhearing. I am very well, in a good place, among good folk, butnecessitated to be quite private, though I am hoping that at long lastwe may meet again. All your friendships have been told me by my lovingcousin, who loves us both. She bids me to send you this writing, andoversees the same. I will be asking you to do all her commands, and restyour affectionate friend, Catriona Macgregor-Drummond. P.S.--Will younot see my cousin, Allard
yce?"
I think it not the least brave of my campaigns (as the soldiers say)that I should have done as I was here bidden and gone forthright to thehouse by Dean. But the old lady was now entirely changed and supple as aglove. By what means Miss Grant had brought this round I could neverguess; I am sure at least, she dared not to appear openly in the affair,for her papa was compromised in it pretty deep. It was he, indeed, whohad persuaded Catriona to leave, or rather, not to return, to hercousin's, placing her instead with a family of Gregorys, decent people,quite at the Advocate's disposition, and in whom she might have the moreconfidence because they were of her own clan and family. These kept herprivate till all was ripe, heated and helped her to attempt her father'srescue, and after she was discharged from prison received her again intothe same secrecy. Thus Prestongrange obtained and used his instrument;nor did there leak out the smallest word of his acquaintance with thedaughter of James More. There was some whispering, of course, upon theescape of that discredited person; but the Government replied by a showof rigour, one of the cell porters was flogged, the lieutenant of theguard (my poor friend, Duncansby) was broken of his rank, and as forCatriona, all men were well enough pleased that her fault should bepassed by in silence.
I could never induce Miss Grant to carry back an answer. "No," she wouldsay, when I persisted, "I am going to keep the big feet out of theplatter." This was the more hard to bear, as I was aware she saw mylittle friend many times in the week, and carried her my news whenever(as she said) I "had behaved myself." At last she treated me to what shecalled an indulgence, and I thought rather more of a banter. She wascertainly a strong, almost a violent friend, to all she liked; chiefamong whom was a certain frail old gentlewoman, very blind, and verywitty, who dwelt in the top of a tall land on a strait close, with anest of linnets in a cage, and thronged all day with visitors. MissGrant was very fond to carry me there and put me to entertain her friendwith the narrative of my misfortunes; and Miss Tibbie Ramsay (that washer name) was particular kind, and told me a great deal that was worthknowledge of old folks and past affairs in Scotland. I should say thatfrom her chamber window, and not three feet away, such is the straitnessof that close, it was possible to look into a barred loophole lightingthe stairway of the opposite house.
Here, upon some pretext, Miss Grant left me one day alone with MissRamsay. I mind I thought that lady inattentive and like one preoccupied.I was besides yery uncomfortable, for the window, contrary to custom,was left open and the day was cold. All at once the voice of Miss Grantsounded in my ears as from a distance.
"Here, Shaws!" she cried, "keek out of the window and see what I havebroughten you."
I think it was the prettiest sight that ever I beheld; the well of theclose was all in clear shadow where a man could see distinctly, thewalls very black and dingy; and there from the barred loophole I saw twofaces smiling across at me--Miss Grant's and Catriona's.
"There!" says Miss Grant, "I wanted her to see you in your braws likethe lass of Limekilns. I wanted her to see what I could make of you,when I buckled to the job in earnest!"
It came in my mind she had been more than common particular that dayupon my dress: and I think that some of the same care had been bestowedupon Catriona. For so merry and sensible a lady, Miss Grant wascertainly wonderful taken up with duds.
"Catriona!" was all I could get out.
As for her, she said nothing in the world, but only waved her hand andsmiled to me, and was suddenly carried away again from before theloophole.
The vision was no sooner lost than I ran to the house door, where Ifound I was locked in; thence back to Miss Ramsay, crying for the key,but might as well have cried upon the castle rock. She had passed herword, she said, and I must be a good lad. It was impossible to burst thedoor, even if it had been mannerly; it was impossible I should leap fromthe window, being seven storeys above ground. All I could do was tocrane over the close and watch for their reappearance from the stair. Itwas little to see, being no more than the tops of their two heads eachon a ridiculous bobbin of skirts, like to a pair of pincushions. Nor didCatriona so much as look up for a farewell; being prevented (as I heardafterwards) by Miss Grant, who told her folk were never seen to lessadvantage than from above downward.
On the way home, as soon as I was set free, I upbraided Miss Grant withher cruelty.
"I am sorry you was disappointed," says she demurely. "For my part I wasvery pleased. You looked better than I dreaded; you looked--if it willnot make you vain--a mighty pretty young man when you appeared in thewindow. You are to remember that she could not see your feet," says she,with the manner of one reassuring me.
"O!" cried I, "leave my feet be, they are no bigger than my neighbor's."
"They are even smaller than some," said she, "but I speak in parableslike a Hebrew prophet."
"I marvel little they were sometimes stoned!" says I. "But you miserablegirl, how could you do it? Why should you care to tantalise me with amoment?"
"Love is like folk," says she, "it needs some kind of vivers."[22]
"O, Barbara, let me see her properly!" I pleaded. "_You_ can, you seeher when you please; let me have half an hour."
"Who is it that is managing this love affair? You? Or me?" she asked,and as I continued to press her with my instances, fell back upon adeadly expedient: that of imitating the tones of my voice when I calledon Catriona by name; with which, indeed, she held me in subjection forsome days to follow.
There was never the least word heard of the memorial, or none by me.Prestongrange and his grace the Lord President may have heard of it (forwhat I know) on the deafest sides of their heads; they kept it tothemselves, at least; the public was none the wiser; and in course oftime, on November 8th, and in the midst of a prodigious storm of windand rain, poor James of the Glens was duly hanged at Lettermore byBalachulish.
So there was the final upshot of my politics! Innocent men have perishedbefore James, and are like to keep on perishing (in spite of all ourwisdom) till the end of time. And till the end of time, young folk (whoare not yet used with the duplicity of life and men) will struggle as Idid, and make heroical resolves, and take long risks; and the course ofevents will push them upon the one side and go on like a marching army.James was hanged; and here was I dwelling in the house of Prestongrange,and grateful to him for his fatherly attention. He was hanged; andbehold! When I met Mr. Symon in the causeway, I was fain to pull off mybeaver to him like a good little boy before his dominie. He had beenhanged by fraud and violence, and the world wagged along, and there wasnot a pennyweight of difference; and the villains of that horrid plotwere decent, kind, respectable fathers of families, who went to kirk andtook the sacrament!
But I had had my view of that detestable business they call politics--Ihad seen it from behind, when it is all bones and blackness; and I wascured for life of any temptations to take part in it again. A plain,quiet, private path was that which I was ambitious to walk in, when Imight keep my head out of the way of dangers and my conscience out ofthe road of temptation. For, upon a retrospect, it appeared I had notdone so grandly, after all; but with the greatest possible amount of bigspeech and preparation, had accomplished nothing.
The 25th of the same month, a ship was advertised to sail from Leith;and I was suddenly recommended to make up my mails for Leyden. ToPrestongrange I could, of course, say nothing; for I had already been along while sorning on his house and table. But with his daughter I wasmore open, bewailing my fate that I should be sent out of the country,and assuring her, unless she should bring me to farewell with Catriona,I would refuse at the last hour.
"Have I not given you my advice?" she asked.
"I know you have," said I, "and I know how much I am beholden to youalready, and that I am bidden to obey your orders. But you must confessyou are something too merry a lass at times to lippen[23] to entirely."
"I will tell you, then," said she. "Be you on board at nine o'clockforenoon; the ship does not sail before one; keep your boat alongside;and if you
are not pleased with my farewells when I shall send them, youcan come ashore again and seek Katrine for yourself."
Since I could make no more of her, I was fain to be content with this.
The day came round at last when she and I were to separate. We had beenextremely intimate and familiar; I was much in her debt; and what way wewere to part was a thing that put me from my sleep, like the vails I wasto give to the domestic servants. I knew she considered me too backward,and rather desired to rise in her opinion on that head. Besides which,after so much affection shown and (I believe) felt upon both sides, itwould have looked cold-like to be anyways stiff. Accordingly, I got mycourage up and my words ready, and the last chance we were like to bealone, asked pretty boldly to be allowed to salute her in farewell.
"You forget yourself strangely, Mr. Balfour," said she. "I cannot callto mind that I had given you any right to presume on our acquaintancy."
I stood before her like a stopped clock, and knew not what to think, farless to say, when of a sudden she cast her arms about my neck and kissedme with the best will in the world.
"You inimitable bairn!" she cried. "Did you think that I would let uspart like strangers? Because I can never keep my gravity at you fiveminutes on end, you must not dream I do not love you very well; I am alllove and laughter, every time I cast an eye on you! And now I will giveyou an advice to conclude your education, which you will have need ofbefore its very long. Never _ask_ women-folk. They're bound to answer'No'; God never made the lass that could resist the temptation. It'ssupposed by divines to be the curse of Eve; because she did not say itwhen the devil offered her the apple, her daughters can say nothingelse."
"Since I am so soon to lose my bonny professor," I began.
"This is gallant, indeed," says she curtseying.
"--I would put the one question," I went on; "May I ask a lass to marryme?"
"You think you could not marry her without?" she asked. "Or else get herto offer?"
"You see you cannot be serious," said I.
"I shall be very serious in one thing, David," said she. "I shall alwaysbe your friend."
As I got to my horse the next morning, the four ladies were all at thesame window whence we had once looked down on Catriona, and all criedfarewell and waved their pocket napkins as I rode away; one out of thefour I knew was truly sorry; and at the thought of that, and how I hadcome to the door three months ago for the first time, sorrow andgratitude made a confusion in my mind.
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