And ever against eating cares,Lap me in soft Lydian airs."
L'Allegro.
WHEN Douglas returned he found the floor strewed with dresses of every description, his sisters on their knees before a great trunk they were busied in unpacking, and his Lady in her wrapper, with her hair about her ears, still amusing herself with her pets.
"See how good your sisters are," said she, pointing to the poor girls, whose inflamed faces bore testimony to their labours. "I declare I am quite sorry to see them take so much trouble," yawning as she leant back in her chair; "is it not quite shocking, Tommy? 'kissing her squirrel.' Oh! pray, Henry, do tell me what I am to put on; for I protest I don't know. Favolle always used to choose for me; and so did that odious Martin, for she had an exquisite taste."
"Not so exquisite as your own, I am sure; so for once choose for yourself," replied the good-humoured husband; "and pray make haste, for my father waits dinner."
Betwixt scolding, laughing, and blundering, the dress was at length completed; and Lady Juliana, in all the pomp of dress and pride of beauty, descended, leaning on her husband's arm.
On entering the drawing-room, which was now in a more comfortable state, Douglas led her to a lady who was sitting by the fire: and, placing her hand within that of the stranger, "Juliana, my love," said he, "this is a sister whom you have not yet seen, a with whom I am sure you will gladly make acquaintance."
The stranger received her noble sister with graceful ease; and, with a sweet smile and pleasing accent, expressed herself happy in the introduction. Lady Juliana was surprised and somewhat disconcerted. She had arranged her plans, and made up her mind to becondescending;she had resolved to enchant by her sweetness, dazzle by her brilliancy, and overpower by her affability. But there was a simple dignity in the air and address of the lady, before which even high-bred affectation sank abashed. Before she found a reply to the courteous yet respectful salutation of her sister-in-law Douglas introduced his brother; and the old gentleman, impatient at any farther delay, taking Lady Juliana by the hand, pulled, rather than led her into the dining-room.
Even Lady Juliana contrived to make a meal of the roast mutton and moorfowl; for the Laird piqued himself on the breed of his sheep, and his son was to good a sportsman to allow his friends to want for game.
"I think my darling Tommy would relish this grouse very much," observed Lady Juliana, as she secured the last remaining wing for her favourite." Bring him here!" turning to the tall, dashing lackey who stood behind her chair, and whose handsome livery and well-dressed hair formed a striking contrast to old Donald's tartan jacket and bob-wig.
"Come hither, my sweetest cherubs," extending her arms towards the charming trio, as they entered, barking, and chattering, and flying to their mistress. A scene of noise and nonsense ensued.
Douglas remained silent, mortified and provoked at the weakness of his wife, which not even the silver tones of her voice or the elegance of her manners could longer conceal from him. But still there was a charm in her very folly, to the eye of love, which had not yet wholly lost its power.
After the table was cleared, observing that he was still silent and abstracted, Lady Juliana turned to her husband, and, laying her hand on his shoulder, "You are not well, love!" said she, looking up in his face, and shaking back the redundant ringlets that shaded her own.
"Perfectly so," replied her husband, with a sigh.
"What? Dull? Then I must sing to enliven you."
And, leaning her head on his shoulder, she warbled a verse of the beautiful little Venetian air,La Biondina in Gondoletta.Then suddenly stopping, and fixing her eyes on Mrs. Douglas, "I beg pardon, perhaps you don't like music; perhaps my singing's a bore."
"You pay us a bad compliment in saying so," said her sister-in-law, smiling; "and the only atonement you can make for such an injurious doubt is to proceed."
"Does anybody sing here?" asked she, without noticing this request. "Do, somebody, sing me a song."
"Oh! we all sing, and dance too," said one, of the old young ladies; "and after tea we will show you some of our Scotch steps; but in the meantime Mrs. Douglas will favour us with her song."
Mrs. Douglas assented good-humouredly, though aware that it would be rather a nice point to please all parties in the choice of a song. The Laird reckoned all foreign music—i.e.everything that was not Scotch—an outrage upon his ears; and Mrs. Douglas had too much taste to murder Scotch songs with her English accent. She therefore compromised the matter as well as she could by selecting a Highland ditty clothed in her own native tongue; and sang with much pathos and simplicity the lamented Leyden's "Fall of Macgregor:"
"In the vale of Glenorehy the night breeze was sighingO'er the tomb where the ancient Macgregors are lying;Green are their graves by their soft murmuring river,But the name of Macgregor has perished for ever.
"On a red stream of light, by his gray mountains glancing,Soon I beheld a dim spirit advancing;Slow o'er the heath of the dead was its motion,Like the shadow of mist o'er the foam of the ocean.
"Like the sound of a stream through the still evening dying,—Stranger! who treads where Macgregor is lying?Darest thou to walk, unappall'd and firm-hearted,'Mid the shadowy steps of the mighty departed?
"See! round thee the caves of the dead are disclosingThe shades that have long been in silence reposing;Thro' their forms dimly twinkles the moon-beam descending,As upon thee their red eyes of wrath they are bending.
"Our gray stones of fame though the heath-blossom cover,Round the fields of our battles our spirits still hover;Where we oft saw the streams running red from the mountains;But dark are our forms by our blue native fountains.
"For our fame melts away like the foam of the river,Like the last yellow leaves on the oak-boughs that shiver:The name is unknown of our fathers so gallant;And our blood beats no more in the breasts of the valiant.
"The hunter of red deer now ceases to numberThe lonely gray stones on the field of our slumber.—Fly, stranger! and let not thine eye be reverted.Why should'st thou see that our fame is departed?"
"Pray, do you play on the harp," asked the volatile lady, scarcely waiting till the first stanza was ended; "and,apropos,have you a good harp here?"
"We've a very sweet spinnet," said Miss Jacky, "which, in my opinion, is a far superior instrument: and Bella will give us a tune upon it. Bella, my dear, let Lady Juliana hear how well you can play."
Bella, blushing like a peony rose, retired to a corner of the room, where stood the spinnet; and with great, heavy, trembling hands, began to belabour the unfortunate instrument, while the aunts beat time, and encouraged her to proceed with exclamations of admiration and applause.
"You have done very well, Bella," said Mrs. Douglas, seeing her preparing toexecuteanother piece, and pitying the poor girl, as well as her auditors. Then whispering Miss Jacky that Lady Juliana looked fatigued, they arose to quit the room.
"Give me your arm, love, to the drawing-room," said her Ladyship languidly. "And now, pray, don't be long away," continued she, as he placed her on the sofa, and returned to the gentlemen.
"You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting,With most admired disorder."
Macbeth.
THE interval, which seemed of endless duration to the hapless Lady Juliana, was passed by the aunts in giving sage counsel as to the course of life to be pursued by married ladies. Worsted stockings and quilted petticoats were insisted upon as indispensable articles of dress; while it was plainly insinuated that it was utterly impossible any child could be healthy whose mother had not confined her wishes to barley broth and oatmeal porridge.
"Only look at thae young lambs," said Miss Grizzy, pointing to the five great girls; "see what pickters of health they are! I'm sure I hope, my dear niece, your children will be just the same—only boys, for we are sadly in want of boys. It's melancholy to think we have not a boy among us, and that a fine auntient race like ours should be dying away for want of male heirs." And the tears streamed down the cheeks of the good spinster as she spoke.
The entrance of the gentlemen put a stop to the conversation.
Flying to her husband, Lady Juliana began to whisper, in very audible tones, her inquires, whether he had yet got any money—when they were to go away, etc. etc.
"Does your Ladyship choose any tea?" asked Miss Nicky, as she disseminated the little cups of coarse black liquid.
"Tea! oh no, I never drink tea. I'll take some coffee though; and Psyche doats on a dish of tea." And she tendered the beverage that had been intended for herself to her favourite.
"Here's no coffee," said Douglas, surveying the tea-table; "but I will ring for some," as he pulled the bell.
Old Donald answered the summons.
"Where's the coffee?" demanded Miss Nicky.
"The coffee!" repeated the Highlander; "troth, Miss Nicky, an' it's been clean forgot."
"Well, but you can get it yet?" said Douglas.
"'Deed, Maister Harry, the night's owre far gane for't noo; for the fire's a' ta'en up, ye see," reckoning with his fingers, as he proceeded; "there's parritch makin' for oor supper; and there's patatees boiling for the beasts; and—"
"I'll see about it myself," said Miss Nicky, leaving the room, with oldDonald at her back, muttering all the way.
The old Laird, all this while, had been enjoying his evening nap; but, that now ended, and the tea equipage being dismissed, starting up, he asked what they were about, that the dancing was not begun.
"Come, my Leddy, we'll set the example," snapping his fingers, and singing in a hoarse voice,
"The mouse is a merry beastie,And the moudiwort wants the een;But folk sail ne'er get wit,Sae merry as we twa ha'e been.'
"But whar's the girlies?" cried he. "Ho! Belle, Becky, Betty, Baby,Beeny—to your posts!"
The young ladies, eager for the delights of music and dancing, now entered, followed by Coil, the piper, dressed in the native garb, with cheeks seemingly ready blown for the occasion. After a little strutting and puffing, the pipes were fairly set a going in Coil's most spirited manner. But vain would be the attempt to describe Lady Juliana's horror and amazement at the hideous sounds that for the first time assailed her ear. Tearing herself from the grasp of the old gentleman, who was just setting off in the reel, she flew shrieking to her husband, and threw herself trembling into his arms, while he called loudly to the self delighted Coil to stop.
"What's the matter? what's the matter?" cried the whole family, gathering round.
"Matter!" repeated Douglas furiously; "you have frightened Lady Juliana to death with your infernal music. What did you mean," turning fiercely to the astonished piper, "by blowing that confounded bladder?"
Poor Coil gaped with astonishment; for never before had his performance on the bagpipe been heard but with admiration and applause.
"A bonny bargain, indeed, that canna stand the pipes," said the old gentleman, as he went puffing up and down the room. "She's no the wife for a Heelandman. Confoonded blather, indeed! By my faith, ye're no blate!"
"I declare it's the most distressing thing I ever met with," sighed MissGrizzy. "I wonder whether it could be the sight or the sound of thebagpipe that frightened our dear niece. I wish to goodness LadyMaclaughlan was here!"
"It's impossible the bagpipe could frighten anybody," said Miss Jacky, in a high key; "nobody with common sense could be frightened at a bagpipe."
Mrs. Douglas here mildly interposed, and soothed down the offended pride of the Highlanders by attributing Lady Juliana's agitation entirely tosurprise.The word operated like a charm; all were ready to admit that it was a surprising thing when heard for the first time. Miss Jacky remarked that we are all liable to be surprised; and the still more sapient Grizzy said that, indeed, it was most surprising the effect that surprise had upon some people. For her own part, she could not deny but that she was very often frightened when she was surprised.
Douglas, meanwhile, was employed in soothing the terrors, real or affected, of his delicate bride, who declared herself so exhausted with the fatigue she had undergone, and the sufferings she had endured, that she must retire for the night. Henry, eager to escape from the questions and remarks of his family, gladly availed himself of the same excuse; and, to the infinite mortification of both aunts and nieces, the ball was broken up.
"What choice to choose for delicacy best."
Milton
OF what nature were the remarks passed in the parlour upon the new married couple has not reached the writer of these memoirs with as much exactness as the foregoing circumstances; but they may in part be imagined from the sketch already given of the characters which formed the Glenfern party. The conciliatory indulgence of Mrs. Douglas, when aided by the good-natured Miss Grizzy, doubtless had a favourable effect on the irritated pride but short-lived acrimony of the old gentleman. Certain it is that, before the evening concluded, they appeared all restored to harmony, and retired to their respective chambers in hopes of beholding a more propitious morrow.
Who has not perused sonnets, odes, and speeches in praise of that balmy blessing sleep; from the divine effusions of Shakespeare down to the drowsy notes of newspaper poets?
Yet cannot too much be said in its commendation. Sweet is its influence on the careworn eyes to tears accustomed. In its arms the statesman forgets his harassed thoughts; the weary and the poor are blessed with its charms; and conscience—even conscience—is sometimes soothed into silence, while the sufferer sleeps. But nowhere, perhaps, is its influence more happily felt than in the heart oppressed by the harassing accumulation of petty ills; like a troop of locusts, making up by their number and their stings what they want in magnitude.
Mortified pride in discovering the fallacy of our own judgment; to be ashamed of what we love, yet still to love, are feelings most unpleasant; and though they assume not the dignity of deep distress, yet philosophy has scarce any power to soothe their worrying, incessant annoyance. Douglas was glad to forget himself in sleep. He had thought a vast deal that day, and of unpleasant subjects, more than the whole of his foregoing life would have produced. If he did not curse the fair object of his imprudence, he at least cursed his own folly and himself; and these were his last waking thoughts.
But Douglas could not repose as long as the seven sleepers, and, in consequence of having retired sooner to bed than he was accustomed to do, he waked at an early hour in the morning.
The wonderful activity which people sometimes feel when they have little to do with their bodies, and less with their minds, caused him to rise hastily and dress, hoping to pick up a new set of ideas by virtue of his locomotive powers.
On descending to the dining-parlour he found his father seated at the window, carefully perusing a pamphlet written to illustrate the principle,Let nothing be lost,and containing many sage and erudite directions for the composition and dimensions of that ornament to a gentleman's farmyard, and a cottager's front door, ycleped, in the language of the country, amidden—with the signification of which we would not, for the world, shock the more refined feelings of our southern readers.
Many were the inquiries about dear Lady Juliana; hoped she had rested well; hoped the found the bed comfortable, etc. etc. These inquiries were interrupted by the Laird, who requested is son to take a turn with him while breakfast was getting ready, that they might talk over past events and new plans; that he might see the new planting on the hill; the draining of the great moss; with other agricultural concerns which we shall omit, not having the same power of commanding attention for our readers as the Laird had from his hearers.
After repeated summonses and many inquiries from the impatient party already assembled the breakfast table, Lady Juliana made her appearance, accompanied by her favourites, whom no persuasions of her husband could prevail upon her to leave behind.
As she entered the room her olfactory nerves were smote with gales, not of "Araby the blest," but of old cheese and herrings, with which the hospitable board was amply provided.
The ladies having severally exchanged the salutations of the morning, Miss Nicky commenced the operation of pouring out tea, while the Laird laid a large piece of herring on her Ladyship's plate.
"Good heavens! what am I to do with this?" exclaimed she. "Do take it away, or I shall faint!"
"Brother, brother!" cried Miss Grizzy in a tone of alarm, "I beg you won't place any unpleasant object before the eyes of our dear niece. I declare! Pray, was it the sight or the smell of the beast [1] that shocked you so much, my dear Lady Juliana? I'm sure I wish to goodness Lady Maclaughlan was come!"
[1] In Scotland everything that flies and swims ranks in the bestial tribe.
Mr. Douglas, or the Major, as he was styled, immediately rose and pulled the bell.
"Desire my gig to be got ready directly!" said he.
The aunts drew up stiffly, and looked at each other without speaking; but the old gentleman expressed his surprise that his son should think of leaving them so soon.
"May we inquire the reason of this sudden resolution?" at length saidMiss Jacky in a tone of stifled indignation.
"Certainly, if you are disposed to hear it; it is because I find that there is company expected."
The three ladies turned up their hands and eyes in speechless horror.
"Is it that virtuous woman Lady Maclaughlan you would shun, nephew?" demanded Miss Jacky.
"It is that insufferable woman I would shun," replied her nephew, with a heightened colour and a violence very unusual with him.
The good Miss Grizzy drew out her pocket-handkerchief, while Mrs. Douglas vainly endeavoured to silence her husband, and avert the rising storm.
"Dear Douglas!" whispered his wife in a tone of reproach.
"Oh, pray let him go on," said Miss Jacky, almost choking under the effort she made to appear calm. "Let him go on. Lady Maclaughlan's character, luckily, is far above the reach of calumny; nothing that Mr. Archibald Douglas can say will have power to change our opinions, or, I hope, to prejudice his brother and Lady Juliana against this most exemplary, virtuous woman—a woman of family—of fortune—of talents—of accomplishments; a woman of unblemished reputation—of the strictest morals, sweetest temper, charming heart, delightful spirits, so charitable—every year gives fifty flannel petticoats to the old people of the parish—-"
"Then such a wife as she is!" sobbed out Miss Grizzy. "She has invented I don't know how many different medicines for Sir Sampson's complaint, and makes a point of his taking some of them every day; but for her I'm sure he would have been in his grave long ago."
"She's doing all she can to send him there, as she has done many a poor wretch already, with her infernal compositions."
Here Miss Grizzy sank back in her chair, overcome with horror; and Miss Nicky let fall the teapot, the scalding contents of which discharged themselves upon the unfortunate Psyche, whose yells, mingling with the screams of its fair mistress, for a while drowned even Miss Jacky's oratory.
"Oh, what shall I do?" cried Lady Juliana, as she bent over her favourite. "Do send for a surgeon; pray, Henry, fly! Do fetch one directly, or she will die; and it would quite kill me to lose my darling. Do run, dearest Harry!"
"My dear Julia, how can you be so absurd? There's no surgeon within twenty miles of this."
"No surgeon within twenty miles!" exclaimed she, starting up. "How could you bring me to such a place? Good God! those dear creatures may die—I may die myself—before I can get any assistance!"
"Don't be alarmed, my dearest niece," said the good Miss Grizzy; "we are all doctors here. I understand something of physic myself; and our friend Lady Maclaughlan, who, I daresay, will be here presently, is perfect mistress of every disease of the human frame."
"Clap a cauld potatae to the brute's tae," cried the oldLaird gruffly.
"I've a box of her scald ointment that will cure it in a minute."
"If it don't cure, it will kill," said Mr. Douglas, with a smile.
"Brother," said Miss Jacky, rising with dignity from her chair, and waving her hand as she spoke-"brother, I appeal to you to protect the character of this most amiable, respectable matron from the insults and calumny your son thinks proper to load it with. Sir Sampson Maclaughlan is your friend, and it therefore becomes your duty to defend his wife."
"Troth, but I'll hae aneugh to do if I am to stand up for a' my friends' wives," said the old gentleman. "But, however, Archie, you are to blame: Leddy Maclaughlan is a very decent woman—at least, as far as I ken—though she is a little free in the gab; and out of respect to my auld friend Sir Sampson, it is my desire that you should remain here to receive him, and that you trait baith him and his Lady discreetly."
This was said in too serious a tone to be disputed, and his son was obliged to submit.
The ointment meanwhile having been applied to Psyche's paw, peace was restored, and breakfast, recommenced.
"I declare our dear niece has not tasted a morsel," observed Miss Nicky.
"Bless me, here's charming barley meal scones," cried one, thrusting a plateful of them before her. "Here's tempting pease bannocks," interposed another, "and oat cakes. I'm sure your Ladyship never saw such cakes."
"I can't eat any of those things," said their delicate niece, with an air of disgust. "I should like some muffin and chocolate."
"You forget you are not in London, my love," said her husband reproachfully.
"No indeed, I do not forget it. Well then, give me some toast," with an air of languid condescension.
"Unfortunately, we happen be quite out of loaf bread at present," said Miss Nicky; "but we've sent to Drymsine for some. They bake excellent bread at Drymsine."
"Is there nothing within the bounds of possibility you would fancy,Julia?" asked Douglas. "Do think, love."
"I think I should like some grouse, or a beefsteak, if it was very nicely done," returned her Ladyship in a languishing tone.
"Beef-steak!" repeated Miss Grizzy.
"Beef-steak!" responded Miss Jacky.
"Beef-steak!" reverberated Miss Nicky.
After much deliberation and consultation amongst the three spinsters, it was at length unanimously carried that the Lady's whim should be indulged.
"Only think, sisters," observed Miss Grizzy in an undertone, "what reflections we should have to make upon ourselves if the child was to resemble a moorfowl!"
"Or have a face like a raw beef-steak!" said Miss Nicky.
These arguments were unanswerable; and a smoking steak and plump moor-fowl were quickly produced, of which Lady Juliana partook in company with her four-footed favourites.
"When winter soaks the fields, and female feet—Too weak to struggle with tenacious clay,Or ford the rivulets—are best at home."
The Task
THE meal being at length concluded, Glenfern desired Henry to attend him on a walk, as he wished to have a little more private conversation with him. Lady Juliana was beginning a remonstrance against the cruelty of taking Harry away from her, when her husband whispering her that he hoped to make something of the old gentleman, and that he should soon be back, she suffered him to depart in silence.
Old Donald having at length succeeded in clearing the table of its heterogeneous banquet, it was quickly covered with the young ladies' work.
Miss Nicky withdrew to her household affairs. Miss Jacky sat with one eye upon Lady Juliana, the other upon her five nieces. Miss Grizzy seated herself by her Ladyship, holding a spread letter of Lady Maclaughlan's before her as a screen.
While the young ladies busily plied their needles, the elder ones left no means untried to entertain their listless niece, whose only replies were exclamations of weariness, or expressions of affection bestowed upon her favourites.
At length even Miss Jacky's sense and Miss Grizzy's good nature wereat fault;when a ray of sunshine darting into the room suggested the idea of a walk. The proposal was made, and assented to by her Ladyship, in the twofold hope of meeting her husband and pleasing her dogs, whose whining and scratching had for some time testified their desire of a change. The ladies therefore separated to prepare for theirsortie,after many recommendations from the aunts to be sure tohap[1] well; but, as if distrusting her powers in that way, they speedily equipped themselves, and repaired to her chamber, arrayedcap a' piein the walking costume of Glenfern Castle. And, indeed, it must be owned their style of dress was infinitely more judicious than that of their fashionable niece; and it was not surprising that they, in their shrunk duffle greatcoats, vast poke-bonnets, red worsted neckcloths, and pattens, should gaze with horror at her lace cap, lilac satin pelisse, and silk shoes. Ruin to the whole race of Glenfern, present and future, seemed inevitable from such a display of extravagance and imprudence. Having surmounted the first shock, Miss Jacky made a violent effort to subdue her rising wrath; and, with a sort of convulsive smile, addressed Lady Juliana: "Your Ladyship, I perceive, is not of the opinion of our inimitable bard, who, in his charming poem, 'The Seasons,' says' Beauty needs not the foreign aid of ornament; but is, when unadorned, adorned the most.' That is a truth that ought to be impressed on every young woman's mind."
[1] Wrap.
Lady Juliana only stared. She was as little accustomed to be advised as she was to hear Thomson's "Seasons" quoted.
"I declare that's all quite true," said the more temporising Grizzy; "and certainly our girls are not in the least taken up about their dress, poor things! which is a great comfort. At the same time, I'm sure it's no wonder your Ladyship should be taken up about yours, for certainly that pelisse is most beautiful. Nobody can deny that; and I daresay it is the very newest fashion. At the same time, I'm just afraid that it's rather too delicate, and that it might perhaps get a little dirty on our roads; for although, in general, our roads are quite remarkable for being always dry, which is a great comfort in the country, yet you know the very best roads of course must be wet sometimes. And there's a very bad step just at the door almost, which Glenfern has been always speaking about getting mended. But, to be sure, he has so many things to think about that it's no wonder he forgets sometimes; but I daresay he will get it done very soon now."
The prospect of the road being mended produced no better effect than the quotation from Thomson's "Seasons." It was now Miss Nicky's turn.
"I'm afraid your Ladyship will frighten our stirks and stots with your finery. I assure you they are not accustomed to see such fine figures; and"—putting her hand out at the window—"I think it's spitting already." [1]
[1] A common expression in Scotland to signify slight rain.
All three now joined in the chorus, beseeching Lady Juliana to put on something warmer and more wiselike.
"I positively have nothing," cried she, wearied with their importunities, "and I shan't get any winter things now till I return to town. Myroquelairedoes very well for the carriage."
The acknowledgment at the beginning of this speech was enough. All three instantly disappeared like the genii of Aladin's lamp, and, like that same person, presently returned, loaded with what, in their eyes, were precious as the gold of Arabia. One displayed a hard worsted shawl, with a flower-pot at each corner; another held up a tartan cloak, with a hood; and a third thrust forward a dark cloth Joseph, lined with flannel; while one and all showered down a variety of old bonnets, fur tippets, hair soles, clogs, pattens, and endlesset ceteras. Lady Juliana shrank with disgust from these "delightful haps," and resisted all attempts to have them forced upon her, declaring, in a manner which showed her determined to have her own way, that she would either go out as she was or not go out at all. The aunts were therefore obliged to submit, and the party proceeded to what was termed the high road, though a stranger would have sought in vain for its pretensions to that title. Far as the eye could reach—and that was far enough—not a single vehicle could be descried on it, though its deep ruts showed that it was well frequented by carts. The scenery might have had charms for Ossian, but it had none for Lady Juliana, who would rather have been entangled in a string of Bond Street equipages than traversing "the lonely heath, with the stream murmuring hoarsely, the old trees groaning in the wind, the troubled lake," and the still more troubled sisters. As may be supposed, she very soon grew weary of the walk. The bleak wind pierced her to the soul; her silk slippers and lace flounces became undistinguishable masses of mud; her dogs chased the sheep, and were, in their turn, pursued by the "nowts," as the ladies termed the steers. One sister expatiated on the great blessing of having a peat moss at their door; another was at pains to point out the purposed site of a set of new offices; and the third lamented that her Ladyship had not on thicker shoes, that she might have gone and seen the garden. More than ever disgusted and wretched, the hapless Lady Juliana returned to the house to fret away the time till her husband's return.
"On se rend insupportable dans la société par des défauts légers, mais qui se font sentir à tout moment."—VOLTAIRE.
THE family of Glenfern have already said so much for themselves that it seems as if little remained to be told by their biographer. Mrs. Douglas was the only member of the community who was at all conscious of the unfortunate association of characters and habits that had just taken place. She was a stranger to Lady Juliana; but she was interested by her youth, beauty, and elegance, and felt for the sacrifice she had made—a sacrifice so much greater than it was possible she ever could have conceived or anticipated. She could in some degree enter into the nature of her feelings towards the old ladies; for she too had felt how disagreeable people might contrive to render themselves without being guilty of any particular fault, and how much more difficult it is to bear with the weaknesses than the vices of our neighbours. Had these ladies' failings been greater in a moral point of view, it might not have been so arduous a task to put up with them. But to love such a set of little, trifling, tormenting foibles, all dignified with the name of virtues, required, from her elegant mind, an exertion of its highest principles—a continual remembrance of that difficult Christian precept, "to bear with one another." A person of less sense than Mrs. Douglas would have endeavoured to open the eyes of their understandings on what appeared to be the folly and narrow mindedness of their ways; but she refrained from the attempt, not from want of benevolent exertion, but from an innate conviction that their foibles all originated in what was now incurable, viz. the natural weakness of their minds, together with their ignorance of the world and the illiberality and prejudices of a vulgar education. "These poor women," reasoned the charitable Mrs. Douglas, "are perhaps, after all, better characters in the sight of God than I am. He who has endowed us all as His wisdom has seen fit, and has placed me amongst them, oh, may He teach me to remember that we are all His children, and enable me to bear with their faults, while I study to correct my own."
Thus did this amiable woman contrive not only to live in peace, but, without sacrificing her own liberal ideas, to be actually beloved by those amongst whom her lot had been cast, however dissimilar to herself. But for that Christian spirit (in which must ever be included a liberal mind and gentle temper), she must have felt towards her connexions a still stronger repugnance than was even manifested by Lady Juliana; for Lady Juliana's superiority over them was merely that of refined habits and elegant manners; whereas Mrs. Douglas's was the superiority of a noble and highly-gifted mind, which could hold no intercourse with theirs except by stooping to the level of their low capacities. But, that the merit of her conduct may be duly appreciated, I shall endeavour to give a slight sketch of the femaledramatis personaeof Glenfern Castle.
Miss Jacky, the senior of the trio, was what is reckoned a very sensible woman—which generally means, a very disagreeable, obstinate, illiberal director of all men, women, and children—a sort of superintendent of all actions, time, and place—with unquestioned authority to arraign, judge, and condemn upon the statutes of her own supposed sense. Most country parishes have their sensible woman, who lays down the law on all affairs, spiritual and temporal. Miss Jacky stood unrivalled as the sensible woman of Glenfern. She had attained this eminence partly from having a little more understanding than her sisters, but principally from her dictatorial manner, and the pompous decisive tone in which she delivered the most commonplace truths. At home her supremacy in all matters of sense was perfectly established; and thence the infection, like other superstitions, had spread over the whole neighbourhood. As sensible woman she regulated the family, which she took care to let everybody see; she was conductor of her nieces' education, which she took care to let everybody hear; she was a sort of postmistress general—a detector of all abuses and impositions; and deemed it her prerogative to be consulted about all the useful and useless things which everybody else could have done as well. She was liberal of her advice to the poor, always enforcing upon them the iniquity of idleness, but doing nothing for them in the way of employment—strict economy being one of the many points in which she was particularly sensible. The consequence was, while she was lecturing half the poor women in the parish for their idleness, the bread was kept out of their mouths by the incessant carding of wool and knitting of stockings, and spinning, and reeling, and winding, and pirning, that went on amongst the ladies themselves. And, by-the-bye, Miss Jacky is not the only sensible woman who thinks she is acting a meritorious part when she converts what ought to be the portion of the poor into the employment of the affluent.
In short, Miss Jacky was all over sense. A skilful physiognomist would, at a single glance, have detected the sensible woman, in the erect head, the compressed lips, square elbows, and firm judicious step. Even her very garments seemed to partake of the prevailing character of their mistress: her ruff always looked more sensible than any other body's; her shawl sat most sensibly on her shoulders; her walking shoes were acknowledged to be very sensible; and she drew on her gloves with an air of sense, as if the one arm had been Seneca, the other Socrates. From what has been said it may easily be inferred that Miss Jacky was in fact anything but a sensible woman; as indeed no woman can be who bears such visible outward marks of what is in reality the most quiet and unostentatious of all good qualities. But there is a spurious sense, which passes equally well with the multitude; it is easily assumed, and still more easily maintained; common truths and a grave dictatorial air being all that is necessary for its support.
Miss Grizzy's character will not admit of so long a commentary as that of her sister. She was merely distinguishable from nothing by her simple good nature, the inextricable entanglement of her thoughts, her love of letter-writing, and her friendship with Lady Maclaughlan. Miss Nicky had about as much sense as Miss Jacky; but, as no kingdom can maintain two kings, so no family can admit of two sensible women; and Nicky was therefore obliged to confine hers to the narrowest possible channels of housekeeping, mantua-making, etc., and to sit down for life (or at least till Miss Jacky should be married) with the dubious character of "not wanting for sense either." With all these little peccadilloes the sisters possessed some good properties. They were well-meaning, kind-hearted, and, upon the whole, good-tempered they loved one another, revered their brother, doated upon their nephews and nieces, took a lively interest in the poorest of their poor cousins, a hundred degrees removed, and had a firm conviction of the perfectibility of human nature, as exemplified in the persons of all their own friends. "Even their failings leaned to virtue's side;" for whatever they did was with the intention of doing good, though the means they made use of generally produced an opposite effect. But there are so many Miss Douglases in the world that doubtless everyone of my readers is as well acquainted with them as I am myself. I shall therefore leave them to finish the picture according to their ideas, while I return to the parlour, where the worthy spinsters are seated in expectation of the arrival of their friend.
"Though bothNot equal, as their sex not equal seemed—For contemplation he, and valour formed;For softness she, and sweet attractive grace."
"WHATcanhave come over Lady Maclaughlan?" said Miss Grizzy, as she sat at the window in a dejected attitude.
"I think I hear a carriage at last," cried Miss Jacky, turning up her ears. "Wisht! let us listen."
"It's only the wind," sighed Miss Grizzy.
"It's the cart with the bread," said Miss Nicky.
"It's Lady Maclaughlan, I assure you," pronounced Miss Jacky.
The heavy rumble of a ponderous vehicle now proclaimed the approach of the expected visitor; which pleasing anticipation was soon changed into blissful certainty by the approach of a high-roofed, square bottomed, pea-green chariot, drawn by two long-tailed white horses, and followed by a lackey in the Highland garb. Out of this equipage issued a figure, clothed in a light-coloured, large-flowered chintz raiment, carefully drawn through the pocket-holes, either for its own preservation, or the more disinterested purpose of displaying a dark short stuff petticoat, which, with the same liberality, afforded ample scope for the survey of a pair of worsted stockings and black leather shoes, something resembling buckets. A faded red cloth jacket, which bore evident marks of having been severed from its native skirts, now acted in the capacity of a spencer. On the head rose a stupendous fabric, in the form of a cap, on the summit of which was placed a black beaver hat, tiedà la poissarde.A small black satin muff in one hand, and a gold-headed walking-stick in the other, completed the dress and decoration of this personage.
The lackey, meanwhile, advanced to the carriage; and, putting in both his hands, as if to catch so something, he pulled forth a small bundle, enveloped in a military cloak, the contents of which would have baffled conjecture, but for the large cocked hat and little booted leg which protruded at opposite extremities.
A loud but slow and well-modulated voice now resounded through the narrow stone passage that conducted to the drawing-room.
"Bring him in—bring him in, Philistine! I always call my manPhilistine, because he has Sampson in his hands. Set him down there,"pointing to an easy chair, as the group now entered, headed by LadyMaclaughlan.
"Well, girls!" addressing the venerable spinsters, as they severally exchanged a tender salute; "so you're all alive, I see;—humph!"
"Dear Lady Maclaughlan, allow me to introduce our beloved niece, Lady Juliana Douglas," said Miss Grizzy, leading her up, and bridling as she spoke with ill-suppressed exultation.
"So—you're very pretty—yes, you are very pretty!" kissing the forehead, cheeks, and chin of the youthful beauty between every pause. Then, holding her at arm's length, she surveyed her from head to foot, with elevated brows, and a broad fixed stare.
"Pray sit down, Lady Maclaughlan," cried her three friends all at once, each tendering a chair.
"Sit down!" repeated she; "why, what should I sit down for? I choose to stand—I don't like to sit—I never sit at home—do I, Sir Sampson?" turning to the little warrior, who, having been seized with a violent fit of coughing on his entrance, had now sunk back, seemingly quite exhausted, while thePhilistinewas endeavouring to disencumber him of his military accoutrements.
"How very distressing Sir Sampson's cough is!" said the sympathisingMiss Grizzy.
"Distressing, child! No—it's not the least distressing. How can a thing be distressing that does no harm? He's much the better of it—it's the only exercise he gets."
"Oh! well, indeed, if that's the case, it would be a thousand pities to stop it," replied the accommodating spinster.
"No, it wouldn't be the least pity to stop it!" returned Lady Maclaughlan, in her loud authoritative tone; "because, though it's not distressing, it's very disagreeable. But it cannot be stopped—you might as well talk of stopping the wind—it is a cradle cough."
"My dear Lady Maclaughlan!" screamed Sir Sampson in a shrill pipe, as he made an effort to raise himself, and rescue his cough from this aspersion; "how can you persist in saying so, when I have told you so often it proceeds entirely from a cold caught a few years ago, when I attended his Majesty at——-" Here a violent relapse carried the conclusion of the sentence along with it.
"Let him alone-don't meddle with him," called his lady to the assiduous nymphs who were bustling around him; "leave him to Philistine; he's in very good hands when he is in Philistine's." Then resting her chin upon the head of her stick, she resumed her scrutiny of Lady Juliana.
"You really are a pretty creature! You've got a very handsome nose, and your mouth's very well, but I don't like your eyes; they're too large and too light; they're saucer eyes, and I don't like saucer eyes. Why ha'nt you black eyes? You're not a bit like your father—I knew him very well. Your mother was an heiress; your father married her for her money, and she married him to be a Countess; and so that's the history of their marriage-humph."
This well-bred harangue was delivered in an unvarying tone, and with unmoved muscles; for though the lady seldom failed of calling forth some conspicuous emotion, either of shame, mirth, or anger, on the countenances of her hearers, she had never been known to betray any correspondent feelings on her own; yet her features were finely formed, marked, and expressive; and, in spite of her ridiculous dress and eccentric manners, an air of dignity was diffused over her whole person, that screened her from the ridicule to which she must otherwise have been exposed. Amazement at the uncouth garb and singular address of Lady Maclaughlan was seldom unmixed with terror at the stern imperious manner that accompanied all her actions. Such were the feelings of Lady Juliana as she remained subjected to her rude gaze and impertinent remarks.
"My Lady?" squeaked Sir Sampson from forth his easy chair.
"My love?" interrogated his lady as she leant upon her stick.
"I want to be introduced to my Lady Juliana Douglas; so give me your hand," attempting, at the same time, to emerge from the huge leathern receptacle into which he had been plunged by the care of the kind sisters.
"Oh, pray sit still, dear Sir Sampson," cried they as usual all at once; "our sweet niece will come to you, don't take the trouble to rise; pray don't," each putting a hand on this man of might, as he was half risen, and pushing him down.
"Ay, come here, my dear," said Lady Maclaughlan; "you're abler to walk to Sir Sampson than he to you," pulling Lady Juliana in front of the easy chair; "there—that's her; you see she is very pretty."
"Zounds, what is the meaning of all this?" screamed the enraged baronet. "My Lady Juliana Douglas, I am shocked beyond expression at this freedom of my lady's. I beg your ladyship ten thousand pardons; pray be seated. I'm shocked; I am ready to faint at the impropriety of this introduction, so contrary to all rules of etiquette. How _could _you behave in such a manner, my Lady Maclaughlan?"
"Why, you know, my dear, your legs may be very good legs, but they can't walk," replied she, with her usualsang froid.
"My Lady Maclaughlan, you perfectly confound me," stuttering with rage. "My lady Juliana Douglas, see here," stretching out a meagre shank, to which not even the military boot and large spur could give a respectable appearance: "You see that leg strong and straight," stroking it down—; "now, behold the fate of war!" dragging forward the other, which was shrunk and shrivelled to almost one half its original dimensions. "These legs were once the same; but I repine not—I sacrificed it in a noble cause: to that leg my Sovereign owes his life!"
"Well, I declare, I had no idea; I thought always it had been rheumatism," burst from the lips of the astonished spinsters, as they crowded round the illustrious limb, and regarded it with looks of veneration.
"Humph!" emphatically uttered his lady.
"The story's a simple one, ladies, and soon told: I happened to be attending his Majesty at a review; I was then aid-de-camp to Lord ——-. His horse took fright, I—I—I,"—here, in spite of all the efforts that could be made to suppress it, theroyal_cough _burst forth with a violence that threatened to silence its brave owner for ever.
"It's very strange you will talk, my love," said his sympathising lady, as she supported him; "talking never did, nor never will agree with you; it's very strange what pleasure people take in talking—humph!"
"Is there anything dear Sir Sampson could take?" asked Miss Grizzy.
"Couldtake? I don't know what you mean bycouldtake. He couldn't take the moon, if you meant hat; but he must take what I give him; so call Philistine; he knows where my cough tincture is."
"Oh, we have plenty of it in this press," said Miss Grizzy, flying to a cupboard, and, drawing forth a bottle, she poured out a bumper, and presented it to Sir Sampson.
"I'm poisoned!" gasped he feebly; "that's not my lady's cough-tincture."
"Not cough-tincture!" repeated the horror-struck doctress, as for the first time she examined the label; "Oh! I declare, neither it is—it's my own stomach lotion. Bless me, what will be done?" and she wrung her hands in despair. "Oh, Murdoch," flying to thePhilistine,as he entered with the real cough-tincture, "I've given Sir Sampson a dose of my own stomach lotion by mistake, and I am terrified for the consequences!"
"Oo, but hur need na be feared, hur will no be a hair the war o't; for hurs wad na tak' the feesick that the leddie ordered hur yestreen."
"Well, I declare things are wisely ordered," observed Miss Grizzy; "in that case it may do dear Sir Sampson a great deal of good."
Just as this pleasing idea was suggested, Douglas and his father entered, and the ceremony of presenting her nephew to her friend was performed by Miss Grizzy in her most conciliating manner.
"Dear Lady Maclaughlan, this is our nephew Henry, who, I know, has thehighest veneration for Sir Sampson and you. Henry, I assure you, LadyMaclaughlan takes the greatest interest in everything that concerns LadyJuliana and you."
"Humph!" rejoined her ladyship, as she surveyed him from head to foot."So your wife fell in love with you, it seems; well, the more fool she;I never knew any good come of love marriages."
Douglas coloured, while he affected to laugh at this extraordinary address, and withdrawing himself from her scrutiny, resumed his station by the side of his Juliana.
"Now, girls, I must go to my toilet; which of you am I to have for my handmaid?"
"Oh, we'll all go," eagerly exclaimed the three nymphs; "our dear niece will excuse us for a little; young people are never at a loss to amuse one another."
"Venus and the Graces, by Jove!" exclaimed Sir Sampson, bowing with an air of gallantry; "and now I must go and adonise a little myself."
The company then separated to perform the important offices of the toilet.