[image]"I WAS BUT AXIN' A CEEVIL QUESTION, MR. SPENCE" Page 117"An' what if I do? what if I do?" retorted the keeper."Jist this," said Jock, without a movement in the muscles of his countenance, "that I ken them tae for mony a year; and sae baith o' us hae common freens amang the hills.""What doyeken aboot them?" asked Spence, not more pacified, nor less puzzled."Because," said Jock, "I hae shot ower them a' as a poacher--my name is Jock Hall, parish o' Drumsylie--and I hae had the best o' sport on them."This was too much for the Senior Keeper. With an exclamation that need not be recorded, Spence made an attempt to rise with the help of his crutches, but was gently laid back in his chair by Jock, who said--"Muckle ye'll mak' o't! as the auld wife said to the guse waumlin' in the glaur. Sit doon--sit doon, Mr. Spence; I'll be as guid to you as Hugh; an' I'll ca' in Hugh ony time ye like: sae be easy. For I wish atween oorsels to tell ye aboot an auld poacher and an auld acquaintance o' yours and mine, Sergeant Adam Mercer; for it's aboot him I've come." This announcement induced John to resume his seat without further trouble, on which Jock said, "Noo, I'll ca' Hugh to ye, gin ye bid me, as ye seem feared for me;" and he motioned as if to go to the door."I'm no feared for you nor for mortal man!" replied Spence, asserting his dignity in spite of his fears; "but, my fac!yemight be feared, pittin' yer fit into a trap like this! and if Hugh grips ye!----" He left the rest to be inferred."Pfuff!" said Jock. "As to that, gudeman, I hae been in every jail roon' aboot! A jail wad be comfort tae me compared wi' the hole I sleepit in the nicht I left Drumsylie, and the road I hae travelled sinsyne! But wull ye no' hear me about Adam Mercer?"Spence could not comprehend the character he had to deal with, but beginning to think him probably "a natural", he told him to "say awa', as the titlin' remarked tae the gowk".Jock now gathered all his wits about him, so as to be able to give a long and tolerably lucid history of the events which were then agitating the little world of Drumsylie, and of which the Sergeant was the centre. He particularly described the part that Mr. Smellie had taken in the affair, and, perhaps, from more than one grudge he bore to the said gentleman, he made him the chief if not the only real enemy of the Sergeant.The only point which Jock failed to make intelligible to the keeper was his account of the starling. It may have been the confusion of ideas incident to old age when dealing with subjects which do not link themselves to the past; but so it was that there got jumbled up in the keeper's mind such a number of things connected with a bird which was the bairn of the Sergeant's bairn, and whistled songs, and told Jock he was a man, and disturbed the peace of the parish, and broke the Sabbath, and deposed the Sergeant, that he could not solve the mystery for himself, nor could Jock make it clear. He therefore accepted Spence's confusion as the natural result of a true estimate of the facts of the case, which few but the Kirk Session could understand, and accordingly he declared that "the bird was a kin' o' witch, a maist extraordinar' cratur, that seemed to ken a' things, and unless he was mista'en wad pit a' things richt gin the hinner en'". The keeper declared "his detestation o' a' speaking birds"; and his opinion that "birds were made for shootin', or for ha'ein' their necks thrawn for eatin'--unless when layin' or hatchin'".But what practical object, it may be asked, had Hall in view in this volunteer mission of his? It was, as he told the keeper, to get him to ask his Lordship, as being the greatest man in the district, to interfere in the matter and by all possible means to get Smellie, if not Mr. Porteous, muzzled. "Ye're Adam's coosin, I hear," said Jock, "and the head man wi' his Lordship, and ye hae but tae speak the word and deliver the Sergeant an' his bird frae the grips o' these deevils."Jock had, however, touched a far sorer point than he was aware of when he described Smellie as the propagator of the early history of the Sergeant as a poacher. This, along with all that had been narrated, so roused the indignation of Spence, who had the warmest regard for the Sergeant, apart from his being his cousin and from the fact of his having connived in some degree at his poaching, that, forgetting for a moment the polluted presence of a confessed poacher like Hall, he told him to call Hugh; adding, however, "What wull he do if he kens what ye are, my man? It's easy to get oot o' the teeth o' an auld doug like me, wha's a guid bit aboon fourscore. But Hugh!--faix he wad pit baith o' us ower his head! Whatwadhe say if he kent a poacher was sitting at his fireside?""I didna say, Mr. Spence, that Iama poacher, but that I was ane; nor did I say that I wad ever be ane again; nor could Hugh or ony ane else pruve mair than has been pruved a'ready against me, and paid for by sowl and body to jails and judges: sae let that flee stick to the wa'!" answered Jock; and having done so, he went to the door, and, with stentorian lungs, called the younger keeper so as to wake up all the dogs with howl and bark as if they had been aware of the poaching habits of the shouter.As Hugh came to the door, at which Jock calmly stood, he said to him in a careless tone, like one who had known him all his life: "Yer faither wants ye;" and, entering the kitchen, he resumed his former seat, folding his arms and looking at the fire."Wha the sorrow hae ye gotten here, faither, cheek by jowl wi' ye?" asked the tall and powerful keeper, scanning Jock with a most critical eye."A freen' o' my cousin's, Adam Mercer," replied old Spence. "But speer ye nae questions, Hugh, and ye'll get nae lees. He has come on business that I'll tell ye aboot. But tak' him ben in the meantime, and gie him some bread and cheese, wi' a drap milk, till his supper's ready. He'll stay here till morning. Mak' a bed ready for him in the laft."Hugh, in the absence of his wife, obeyed his father's orders, though not without a rather strong feeling of lessened dignity as a keeper in being thus made the servant of a ragged-looking tramp. While Jock partook of his meal in private, and afterwards went out to smoke his pipe and look about him, Old Spence entered into earnest conference with his son Hugh. After giving his rather confused and muddled, yet sufficiently correct, edition of Mercer's story, he concentrated his whole attention and that of his son on the fact that Peter Smellie was the enemy of Adam Mercer, and had been so for some time; that he had joined the minister to persecute him; and, among other things, had also revealed the story of Adam's poaching more than thirty years before, to raise prejudice against his character and that of Spence as a keeper."Wha's Smellie? I dinna mind him," asked Hugh."Nae loss, Hugh!--nae loss at a'. I never spak' o't to onybody afore, and ye'll no clipe aboot it, for every dog should hae his chance; and if a man should miss wi' ae barrel, he may nevertheless hit wi' the tither; and I dinna want to fash the man mair than is necessar'. But this same Smellie had a shop here at the clachan aboon twenty years syne, and I got him custom frae the Castle; an' didna the rogue--Is the door steekit?" asked the old man in a whisper. Hugh nodded. "An' didna the rogue," continued old John, "forge my name tae a bill for £50? That did he; and I could hae hanged him! But I never telt on him till this hour, but made him pay the half o't, and I paid the ither half mysel'; and Adam see'd me sae distressed for the money that he gied me £5 in a present tae help. Naebody kent o't excep' mysel' and Adam, wha was leevin' here at the time, and saw it was a forgery; and I axed himneverto say a word aboot it, and I'll wager he never did, for a clean-speerited man and honourable is Adam Mercer! Weel, Smellie by my advice left the kintraside for Drumsylie, and noo he's turning against Adam! Isna that awfu'? Is't no' deevilish? Him like a doug pointing at Adam! As weel a moose point at a gled!""That's a particular bonnie job indeed," said Hugh. "I wad like to pepper the sneaky chiel wi' snipe-dust for't. But what can be dune noo?""Dune! Mair than Smellie wad like, and enouch to mak' him lowse his grip o' Adam!" said the old man. "I hae a letter till him bamboozlin' my head, and I'll maybe grip it in the mornin' and pit it on paper afore breakfast-time! Be ye ready to write it doon as I tell ye, and it'll start Smellie ower his wabs and braid claith, or I'm mista'en!"Hugh was ordered to meet his father in the morning to indite the intended epistle.CHAPTER XVIFISHERS AND FISHINGAs the evening drew on, the family who occupied the keeper's house gathered together like crows to their rookery. Mrs. Hugh, who had been helping at a large washing in "the big house", returned with a blythe face, full of cheer and womanly kindness."Hech! but I hae had sic a day o't! What a washing! an' it's no' half dune! But wha hae we here?" she asked, as she espied Jock seated near the fire. "Dae I ken ye?" she further inquired, looking at him with a sceptical smile, as if she feared to appear rude to one whom she ought, perhaps, to have recognised.Jock, with a sense of respect due to her, rose, and said, "I houp no', for maybe I wad be nae credit tae ye as an acqua'ntance.""A freen' o' my cousin's, Adam Mercer, o' Drumsylie," remarked old Spence. "Sit doon, my man!""I'm glad tae see ye," said the happy sonsy wife, stretching out her hand to Jock, who took it reluctantly, and gazed in the woman's face with an awkward expression."It's been saft weather, and bad for travellin', and ye hae come a far gait," she continued; and forthwith began to arrange her house. Almost at her heels the children arrived. There were two flaxen-haired girls, one ten and the other about twelve, with bare feet, and their locks tied up like sheaves of ripe golden grain. Then came in a stout lad of about seven, from school and play. All looked as fresh and full of life as young roe from the forest."Gang awa', bairns, and snod yersels," said Mrs. Hugh."This man," said old Spence, who was jealous of his authority over the household, pointing to Jock, "wull tak' his supper wi' us. He's tae sleep in the stable-laft.""He's welcome, he's welcome," said Mrs. Hugh. "The bed's nae braw, but it's clean, and it's our best for strangers."The last to enter, as the sun was setting, was John, the eldest, a lad of about fourteen, the very picture of a pure-eyed, ruddy-complexioned, healthy, and happy lad. He had left school to assist his father in attending to his duties."What luck, Johnnie?" asked his father, as the boy entered with his fishing basket over his shoulder."Middlin' only," replied John; "the water was raither laigh, and the tak' wasna guid. There were plenty o' rises, but the troots were unco shy. But I hae gotten, for a' that, a guid wheen;" and he unslung his basket and poured out from it a number of fine trout.Jock's attention was now excited. Here was evidence of an art which he flattered himself he understood, and could speak about with some authority."Pretty fair," was his remark, as he rose and examined them; "whaur got ye them?""In the Blackcraig water," replied the boy."Let me luik at yer flee, laddie?" asked Jock. The boy produced it. "Heckle, bad!--ye should hae tried a teal's feather on a day like this."Johnnie looked with respect at the stranger. "Are ye a fisher?" he asked."I hae tried my han'," said Jock. And so the conversation began, until soon the two were seated together at the window. Then followed such a talk on the mysteries of the craft as none but students of the angle could understand:--the arrangement and effect of various "dressings", of wings, bodies, heckles, &c., being discussed with intense interest, until all acknowledged Jock as a master."Ye seem tae understan' the business weel," remarked Hugh."I wad need," replied Jock. "When a man's life, no' to speak o' his pleasure, depen's on't, he needs tae fish wi' a watchfu' e'e and canny han'. But at a' times, toom or hungry, it's a great diverteesement!"Both Johnnie and his father cordially assented to the truth of the sentiment."Eh, man!" said Jock, thus encouraged to speak on a favourite topic, "what a conceit it is when ye reach a fine run on a warm spring mornin', the wuds hotchin' wi' birds, an' dauds o' licht noos and thans glintin' on the water; an' the water itsel' in trim order, a wee doon, after a nicht's spate, and wi' a drap o' porter in't, an' rowin' and bubblin' ower the big stanes, curlin' into the linn and oot o't; and you up tae the henches in a dark neuk whaur the fish canna see ye; an' than to get a lang cast in the breeze that soughs in the bushes, an' see yer flee licht in the vera place ye want, quiet as a midge lichts on yer nose, or a bumbee on a flower o' clover, an'----"Johnnie was bursting with almost as much excitement as Jock, but did not interrupt him except with a laugh expressive of his delight."An' than," continued Jock, "whan a muckle chiel' o' a salmon, wi'oot time tae consider whether yer flee is for his wame or only for his mooth--whether it's made by natur' or by Jock Hall--plays flap! and by mistak' gangs to digest what he has gotten for his breakfast, but suspec's he canna swallow the line alang wi' his mornin' meal till he taks some exercise!--an' then tae see the line ticht, and the rod bendin' like a heuk, and tae fin' something gaun frae the fish up the line and up the rod till it reaches yer verra heart, that gangspit patat yer throat like a tickin' watch; until the bonnie cratur', efter rinnin' up and doon like mad, noo skulkin' aside a stane tae cure his teethache, then bilkin' awa' wi' a scunner at the line and trying every dodge, syne gies in, comes tae yer han' clean beat in fair play, and lies on the bank sayin' 'Wae's me' wi' his tail, an' makin' his will wi' his gills and mooth time aboot!--eh, man, it's splendid!" Jock wearied himself with the description."Whaur hae ye fished?" asked Hugh, after a pause during which he had evidently enjoyed Jock's description."In the wast water and east water; in the big linn an' wee linn, in the Loch o' the Whins, in the Red Burn, an' in----""I dinna ken thae waters at a'," remarked the keeper, interrupting him, "nor ever heard o' them!""Nor me," chimed in old John, "though I hae been here for mair than fifty year.""Maybe no'," said Jock with a laugh, "for they're in the back o' the beyonts, and that's a place few folk hae seen, I do assure you--ha! ha! ha!" Jock had, in fact, fished the best streams watched by the keepers throughout the whole district. Young John was delighted with this new acquaintance, and looked up to him with the greatest reverence."What kin' o' flee duve ye fish wi'?" asked Johnnie. "Hae ye ony aboot ye e'enoo?""I hae a few," said Hall, as he unbuttoned his waistcoat, displaying a tattered shirt within, and, diving into some hidden recess near his heart, drew forth a large old pocket-book and placed it on the table. He opened it with caution and circumspection, and spread out before the delighted Johnnie, and his no less interested father, entwined circles of gut, with flies innumerable."That's the ane," Jock would say, holding up a small, black, hairy thing, "I killed ten dizzen wi'--thumpers tae, three pun's some o' them--afore twa o'clock. Eh, man, he's a murderin' chiel this!" exhibiting another. "But it was this ither ane," holding up one larger and more gaudy, "that nicked four salmon in three hours tae their great surprise! And thae flees," taking up other favourites, "wi' the muirfowl wing and black body, are guid killers; but isna this a cracker wi' the wee touch o' silver? it kilt mair salmon--whaur, ye needna speer--than I could carry hame on a heather wuddie! But, Johnnie," he added after a pause, "I maun, as yer freen', warn ye that it's no' the flee, nor the water, nor the rod, nor the win', nor the licht, can dae the job, wi'oot the watchfu' e'e and steady han', an' a feelin' for the business that's kin' o' born wi' a fisher, but hoo that comes aboot I dinna ken--I think I could maist catch fish in a boyne o' water if there were ony tae catch!"CHAPTER XVIITHE KEEPER'S HOMEWhile the preparations for supper were going on within doors, Jock went out to have a "dauner", or saunter, but, in truth, from a modest wish to appear as if not expecting to be asked to partake of supper with the family.The table was spread with a white home-made linen cloth, and deep plates were put down, each with a horn spoon beside it. A large pot, containing potatoes which had been pared before they were placed on the fire, was now put on the floor, and fresh butter with some salt having been added to its contents, the whole was beat and mashed with a heavy wooden beetle worked by Hugh and his son--for the work required no small patience and labour--into a soft mass, forming an excellent dish of "champed potatoes", which, when served up with rich milk, is "a dainty dish to set before a king", even without the four-and-twenty blackbirds. Then followed a second course of "barley scones" and thick crisp oatmeal cakes, with fresh butter, cheese, and milk.Before supper was served Jock Hall was missed, and Johnnie sent in search of him. After repeated shouts he found him wandering about the woods, but had the greatest difficulty in persuading him to join the family. Jock said, "It wasna for him tae gang ben",--"he had had eneuch tae eat in the afternoon",--"he wad hae a bite efter hin", &c. But being at last persuaded to accept the pressing invitation, he entered, and without speaking a word seated himself in the place allotted to him."Tak' in yer chair, Maister Hall,"--Jock could hardly believe his ears!--"and mak' what supper ye can," said Mrs. Hugh. "We're plain kintra folk hereawa',"--an apology to Jock for their having nothing extra at supper to mark their respect for a friend of the Sergeant's! What were his thoughts? The character of an impostor seemed forced upon him when he most desired to be an honest man.Then the old man reverently took off his "Kilmarnock cool", a coloured worsted night-cap, and said grace, thanking God for all His mercies, "of the least of which," he added, "we are unworthy". After supper Mrs. Hugh gave a long account of the labours of the day, and of the big washing, and told how she had met Lady Mary, and Lady Caroline, and Lord Bennock, and how they had been talking to the children, and "speering for faither and grandfaither".A happy family was that assembled under the keeper's roof. The youngest child, a boy, was ever welcome on old John's knee, who never seemed able to exhaust the pleasure he derived from his grandson's prattle. His large watch, which approached in size to a house clock, with its large pewter seal, was an endless source of amusement to the child; so also was the splendid rabbit shadowed on the wall, with moving ears and moving mouth, created by John's hands; and his imitation of dogs, cats, and all other domestic animals, in which he was an adept;--nay, his very crutches were turned to account to please the boy, and much more to please himself. The elder daughters clung round their mother in a group, frankly talking to her in mutual confidence and love. The boys enjoyed the same liberty with their father, and indulged unchecked in expressions of affection. All was freedom without rudeness, play without riot, because genuine heartfelt affection united all.Jock did not join in the conversation, except when he was asked questions by Mrs. Hugh about Drumsylie, its shops and its people. On the whole he was shy and reserved. Anyone who could have watched his eye and seen his heart would have discovered both busy in contemplating a picture of ordinary family life such as the poor outcast had never before beheld. But Jock still felt as if he was not in his right place--as if he would have been cast out into the darkness had his real character been known. His impressions of a kind of life he never dreamt of were still more deepened when, before going to bed, the large Bible was placed on the table, and Hugh, amidst the silence of the family, said, "We'll hae worship." The chapter for the evening happened to be the fifteenth of St. Luke. It was as if written expressly for Jock. Are such adaptations to human wants to be traced to mere chance? Surely He who can feed the wild beasts of the desert, or the sparrow amidst the waste of wintry snows, can give food to the hungry soul of a Prodigal Son, as yet ignorant of the food he needs and of the Father who alone can supply it.They did not ask Jock if he would remain for evening worship. "The stranger within the gate" was assumed to be, for the time, a member of the household. It was for him to renounce his recognised right, not for the family to question it. But Jock never even argued the point with himself. He listened with head bent down as if ashamed to hold it up, and following the example set to him by the family, knelt down--for the first time in his life--in prayer. Did he pray? Was it all a mere form? Was it by constraint, and not willingly? What his thoughts were on such an occasion, or whether they were gathered up in prayer to the living God, who can tell? But if the one thought even, for the first time, possessed him, that maybe there was a Person beyond the seen and temporal, to whom the world and man belonged, whose Name he could now associate with no evil but with all good, who possibly knew him and wished him to be good like Himself;--if there was even a glimmer in his soul, as he knelt down, that he might say as well as others, and along with them, "Our Father, which art in Heaven", then was there cast into his heart, though he knew it not, the germ of a new life which might yet grow into a faith and love which would be life eternal.The prayer of Hugh the keeper was simple, earnest, and direct, a real utterance from one person to another--yet as from a man to God, couched in his own homely dialect to Him whom the people of every language and tongue can worship. The prayer was naturally suggested by the chapter which was read. He acknowledged that all were as lost sheep; as money lost in the dust of earth; as miserable prodigals lost to their Father and to themselves, and who were poor and needy, feeding on husks, having no satisfaction, and finding no man to give unto them. He prayed God to bring them all into the fold of the Good Shepherd, who had given His life for the sheep, and to keep them in it; to gather them as the lost coins into the treasury of Him who was rich, yet who for our sakes became poor; he prayed God to help them all to say, "I will arise and go to my Father", in the assured hope that their Father would meet them afar off, and receive them with joy. After remembering the afflicted in body and mind, the orphan and widow, the outcast and stranger, he asked that God, who had mercy on themselves who deserved nothing, would make them also merciful to others; and he concluded with the Lord's Prayer.Had any one seen poor Hall that night as he lay in the hay-loft, a clean blanket under him and more than one over him, they might have discovered in his open eyes, and heard in his half-muttered expressions, and noticed even from his wakeful tossings to and fro, a something stirring in his soul the nature or value of which he himself could not comprehend or fully estimate.CHAPTER XVIIITHE KEEPER'S LETTEROld John Spence was an early riser. He did not share Charles Lamb's fears of indulging in the ambition of rising with the sun. The latter part of the day was to him a period of repose, a siesta of half-sleepy meditation, which not unfrequently passed into a deep-toned sleep in his arm-chair. In a lucid interval, during the evening of Jock's arrival, he had been considering how he might best help the Sergeant out of his difficulties. He had not for a moment accepted of Jock's policy suggesting his lordship's interference in the great Drumsylie case. With the instinct of an old servant, he felt that such presumption on his part was out of the question. So he had informed Jock, bidding him not to think of his lordship, who would not and could not do anything in the matter. He assured him at the same time that he would try what could be done by himself to muzzle Smellie. Having accordingly matured his plans, he was ready at daybreak to execute them. He embraced therefore the first opportunity of taking Hugh into a small closet, where the little business which required writing was generally transacted, and where a venerable escritoire stood, in whose drawers and secret recesses were carefully deposited all papers relating to that department of his lordship's estate over which John was chief.The door having been carefully barred, the old keeper seated in an arm-chair, and his son Hugh at the escritoire, John said, "Get the pen and paper ready.""A' richt," said Hugh, having mended his pen and tried it on his thumb-nail, looking at it carefully as he held it up in the light."Weel, then, begin! Write--'Sir;' no' 'Dear Sir,' but jist 'Sir'. Of coorse ye'll pit the direction 'To Mr. Peter Smellie'. Eh?--halt a wee--should I say Mr. or plain Peter? Jist mak' it plain Peter--say, 'To Peter Smellie'.""To Peter Smellie," echoed Hugh."John Spence, keeper--or raither John Spence, senior keeper--wishes tae tell ye that ye're a scoondrill."After writing these words with the exception of the last, Hugh said, "Be canny, faither, or maybe he micht prosecute you.""Let him try't!" replied John; "but let scoondrill stan'. It's the vera pooder and shot o' my letter; wi'oot that, it's a' tow and colfin.""I'm no' sure, faither, if I can spell't," said Hugh, who did not like the more than doubtful expression, and put off the writing of it by asking, "Hoo, faither, d'ye spell scoondrill?""What ither way but the auld way?""But I never wrote it afore, for I hae had little to dae wi' ony o' the squad.""Weel, I wad say--s, k, oo, n, d, r, i, l, l, or to that effec'. Keep in thedrillwhatever ye dae, for that's what I mean tae gie him!"Having written this very decided introduction, Hugh went on with his letter, which when completed ran as follows:--"John Spence, Senior Keeper, Castle Bennock, to Peter Smellie, Draper, Drumsylie."You are a skoondrill, and you kno it! But nobody else knos it but my son and me and Serjent Mercer. I wuss you to understan' that he knos all about yon black business o' yours, 20 year back. This comes to let you kno that unless you leve him alone, and don't molest him, I will send you to Botany Bay, as you deserve. Medle not with the Sergeant, or it wull be to your cost. Attend to this hint. I wull have you weel watched. You are in Mr. Mercer's power. Bewar!"Your servt.,"JOHN SPENCE.""I houp," said John, as he had the letter read over to him, "that will mak the whitrat leave aff sookin' the Sergeant's throat! If no', I'll worry him like a brock, or hunt him like a fox aff the kintra side. But no' a word o' this, mind ye, tae ony leevin' cratur, mair especial tae yon trampin' chiel. Gie Smellie a chance, bad as he is. Sae let the letter be sent aff this verra nicht wi' Sandy the Post. The sooner the better. The nesty taed that he is! Him to be preaching tae a man like Adam oot o' his clay hole!"The letter was despatched that night by the post. It was not thought discreet to intrust Jock with the secret, or to let Adam Mercer know in the meantime anything about this counter-mine.Breakfast being over, Hall proposed to return to Drumsylie. Before doing so he wished some positive assurance of obtaining aid in favour of the Sergeant from Spence. But all he could get out of the keeper was to "keep his mind easy--no' to fear--he wad look efter the Sergeant".Old Spence would not, however, permit of Jock's immediate departure, but invited him to remain a day or two "and rest himsel'". It was benevolently added, that "he could help Johnnie to fish at an odd hour, and to sort the dogs and horses in ordinar' hours". The fact was, old Spence did not wish Hall to return immediately to Drumsylie, until events there had time to be affected by his letter to Smellie. Jock was too glad of the opportunity afforded him of proving that he might be trusted to do whatever work he was fitted for, and that he was not "a lazy tramper" by choice.As the week was drawing to an end, Jock made up his mind to return to his old haunts, for home he had none. He had also an undefined longing to see the Sergeant, and to know how it fared with him.But when the day arrived for his departure, Hugh suggested that perhaps Jock would like to see the Castle. It was not, he said, every day he would have such a chance of seeing so grand a place, and maybe he might even see his lordship!--at a distance. Besides, it would not take him far out of his road; and Hugh would accompany him a part of the way home, as he had to visit a distant part of the estate in the discharge of his professional duties.Jock's curiosity was excited by the thought of seeing the great house not as a beggar or a poacher, but under the genteel protection of a keeper and confidential servant, and when a live lord might be scanned from afar without fear.When Jock came to bid farewell to old Spence, he approached him bonnet in hand, with every token of respect. He said little but "Thank ye--thank ye, Mr. Spence, for yer guidness;" and whispering, added, "I'm sorry if I offended ye. But maybe ye could get a job for me if I canna fa' in wi' honest wark at Drumsylie? I'll break my back, or break my heart, tae please you or ony dacent man that 'll help me to feed my body--it's no mickle buik--and to cover't--and little will keep the cauld oot, for my hide is weel tanned wi' win' and weather."Spence looked with interest at the poor but earnest pleader at his elbow, and nodded encouragingly to him."Eh, man!" said Jock, "what a pity ye dinna snuff! I wad lee ye my auld snuff-box gin ye wad tak' it."Spence smiled and thanked him--ay even shook hands with him!--an honour which went to Jock's heart; and Spence added, "My compliments to my cousin Adam, and tell him to stan' at ease and keep his pooder dry."Mrs. Spence had prepared a good "rung" of bread and cheese, which she stuffed into Jock's pocket to support him in his journey."Awfu' guid o' ye--maist awfu'!" said Jock, as he eyed the honest woman pressing the food into its ragged receptacle.Jock looked round, and asked for Johnnie. On being told that he was at the stables, he went off to find him, and, having succeeded, took him aside and said--"Johnnie, laddie, I hae been treated by yer folk like a lord, tho' efter a' I dinna weel ken hoo a lord is treated; but, howsomdever, wi'oot ony clavers aboot it, here's a present for you o' the best buik o' flees in the haill kintra side. Tak' them, and welcome." And Jock produced his "Book of Sports", which had been his most cheerful companion for many a year, and almost forcing John to take it, added, "I hae a obligation to ax: never tell yer folk aboot it till I'm awa', and never tell ony stranger atween this and Drumsylie that ye got it frae Jock Ha'." And before the astonished boy could thank him as the generous giver of so many keys to unlock every pool of its treasures, on every day in the year and at all seasons, Jock ran off to join Hugh.CHAPTER XIXEXTREMES MEETIn a short time Hugh was conducting Jock towards the Castle. After they passed the lodge, and were walking along the beautiful avenue and beneath the fine old trees, with the splendid park sweeping around, and the turrets of the Castle in sight, Hugh said, "Now, Hall, dinna speak to onybody unless they speak to you, and gie a discreet answer. Dae my biddin'; for I'm takin' a great responsibility in bringin' ye in here. His lordship maybe wadna be pleased to see a trampin' chiel like you here. But I'll tak' care he doesna see ye, nor if possible hear tell o' ye.""Never fear me," said Jock; "I'll be as quaet as a dead rabbit. But, Hugh man, I hae seen his lordship afore.""Whaur?" asked Hugh, with an expression of astonishment."He ance tried me, as a maugistrat'," replied Jock, equally placid."Tried ye!" exclaimed Hugh, pausing in his walk as if he had got into one scrape and was about to enter a second--"tried ye for what?""Oh, never heed," said Jock; "dinna be ower particular. It was a job that ended in a drucken habble I got into wi' twa tailor chappies that struck me, and my head and e'e were bun' wi' a bluidy napkin at the trial, and his lordship wull no' mind on me; tho' faix! I mind on him, for he sent me tae jail.""Was that a'?" carelessly remarked Hugh. "Ye micht hae thrashed nine tailors and no' got yersel' hurt; I gripped three o' them mysel' when poachin'."But Jock did not tell the whole history of one of his own poaching affrays along with the tailors.Hugh ensconced Jock in the shrubbery until he ascertained from one of the servants that his lordship had gone out to walk in the grounds, that the ladies were taking an airing in the carriage, and that it was quite possible to get a peep into the great hall and the public rooms opening from it, without being discovered. As Hugh, accompanied by Jock, crept almost noiselessly along the passages, he directed with underbreath Jock's attention to the noble apartments, the arms and suits of mail hung round the wall of the great entrance-hall, the stags' heads, the stuffed birds, and one or two fine paintings of boar-hunts. But when the drawing-room door was opened, and there flashed upon Jock's eyes all the splendour of colour reflected from large mirrors, in which he saw, for the first time, his own odd figure from crown to toe, making him start back as if he had seen a ghost, and when through the windows he beheld all the beauty of flowers that filled the parterres, dotted withjets d'eaux, white statues and urns, and surrounded by bowery foliage, a vision presented itself which was as new to him as if he had passed into Eden from the lodgings of Mrs. Craigie.He did not speak a word, but only remarked it was "nae doubt unco braw, and wad hae cost a heap o' siller". But, as they were retreating, suddenly the inner door of the hall opened, and his lordship stood before them!"Heeven be aboot us!" ejaculated Spence, and in a lower voice added, "Dune for,--dune for life!" He looked around him, as if for some means of concealing himself, but in vain. The door by which they had entered was closed. There was no mode of exit. Jock, seeing only a plain-looking little gentleman in a Glengarry bonnet and tweed suit, never imagined that this could be a lord, and was accordingly quite composed. Spence, with his eyes fixed on the ground and his face flushed to the roots of his hair, seemed speechless.His lordship was a slight-built man, of about forty, with pleasing hazel eyes and large moustache. He had retired from the army, and was much liked for his frank manner and good humour. Seeing his keeper in such perplexity, accompanied by so disreputable-looking a person, he said, "Hollo, Spence! whom have you got here? I hope not a poacher, eh?""I humbly beg your lordship's pardon; but, my lord, the fac' is----" stammered Hugh."Is that his lordship?" whispered Jock."Haud yer tongue!" replied Hugh in an undertone of intense vehemence. Then addressing his lordship, he said, "He's no poacher, my lord; no, no, but only----""Oh! an acquaintance, I suppose.""No' that either, no' that either," interrupted Hugh, as his dignity was frying on account of his companion, whom he wished a hundred miles away, "but an acqua'ntance o' an acqua'ntance o' my faither's lang syne--a maist respectable man--Sergeant Mercer, in Drumsylie, and I took the leeberty, thinking yer lordship was oot, to----""To show him the house. Quite right, Spence; quite right; glad you did so." Then addressing Jock, he said, "Never here before, I suppose?"Jock drew himself up, placed his hands along his sides, heels in, toes out, and gave the military salute."Been in the army? In what regiment? Have you seen service?""Yes, sir--yes, my lord," replied Jock; "as yer honour says, I ha'e seen service."This was information to Spence, who breathed more freely on hearing such unexpected evidence of Jock's respectability."Where?" inquired his lordship, seating himself on one of the lobby chairs, and folding his arms."In the berrick-yaird o' Stirlin', yer honour," replied Jock; "but in what regiment I dinna mind. It was a first, second, or third something or anither; but I hae clean forgotten the name and number.""The barrack-yard?" said his lordship, laughing; "pray how long did you serve his Majesty in that severe campaign?""Aboot a fortnicht," said Jock."What!" exclaimed his lordship; "a fortnight only? And what after that?""I ran aff as fast as I could," said Jock; "and never ran faster a' my days, till I reached Drumsylie."Hugh turned his back as if also to run away, with sundry half-muttered exclamations of horror and alarm. His lordship burst into a fit of laughter, and said,--"On my honour, you're a candid fellow!" But he evidently assumed that Jock was probably a half-witted character, who did not comprehend the full meaning of his admission. He was confirmed in his supposition by Jock going on to give a history of his military life in the most easy and simple fashion,--"I 'listed when I was fou'; and though I had nae objections at ony time to fire a gun at a bird or a Frenchman, or tae fecht them that wad fecht me, yet the sodjers at Stirlin' made a fule o' me, and keepit me walkin' and trampin' back and forrid for twa weeks in the yaird, as if they were breakin' a horse; and I could dae naething, neither fish, nor e'en shoot craws, wi'oot the leave o' an ill-tongued corporal. I couldna thole that, could I? It wasna in the bargain, and sae I left, and they didna think it worth their while to speer after me.""Egad!" said his lordship, laughing, "I dare say not, I dare say not! Do you know what they might have done to you if they had caught you, my man?" asked his lordship."Shot me, I expec'," said Jock; "but I wasna worth the pooder; and, tae tell the truth, I wad raither be shot like a gled for harryin' a paitrick's nest, than be kept a' my days like a gowk in a cage o' a berricks at Stirlin'! But I didna heed atweel whether they shot me or no'," added Jock, looking round him, and stroking his chin as if in a half dream."The black dog tak' ye!" said Spence, who lost his temper. "My lord, I declare----""Never mind, Spence, never mind; let him speak to me; and go you to the servants' hall until I send for you."Spence bowed and retired, thankful to be released from his present agony. His lordship, who had a passion for characters which the keeper could not comprehend, gave a sign to Jock to remain, and then went on with the following catechism."What did your parents do?""Little guid and mickle ill.""Were you at school?""No' that I mind o'.""How have ye lived?""Guid kens!""What have you been?""A ne'er-do-weel--a kin' o' cheat-the-widdie. Sae folk tell me, and I suppose they're richt.""Are you married?""That's no' a bad ane, efter a'!" said Jock, with a quiet laugh, turning his head away."A bad what?" asked his lordship, perplexed by the reply."I jist thocht," said Jock, "yer honour was jokin', to think that ony wumman wad marry me! He! he! Lassies wad be cheaper than cast-awa' shoon afore ony o' them wad tak' Jock Ha'--unless," he added, in a lower tone, with a laugh, "ane like Luckie Craigie. But yer lordship 'ill no' ken her, I'se warrant?""I have not that honour," said his lordship, with a smile. "But I must admit that you don't give yourself a good character, anyhow.""I hae nane to gie," said Jock, with the same impassible look."On my word," added his lordship, "I think you're honest!""It's mair," said Jock, "than onybody else thinks. But if I had wark, I'm no' sure but I wad be honest!"His lordship said nothing, but stared at Hall as if measuring him from head to foot. Jock returned his gaze. It was as if two different portions of a broken-up world had met. His lordship felt uncertain whether to deal with Jock as a fool or as a reprobate. He still inclined to the opinion that he had "a want", and accordingly continued his catechism, asking,--"What would you like to have?""It's no' for me tae say," replied Jock; "beggars shouldna be choosers.""Perhaps you would have no objection to have this fine house--eh?" asked his lordship, with a smile."I'll no' say that I wad," replied Jock."And what would you make of it?""I wad," replied Jock, "fill't fu' wi' puir ne'er-do-weel faitherless and mitherless bairns, and pit Sergeant Mercer and his wife ower them--that's Mr. Spence's cousin, ye ken.""Hillo!" said his lordship, "that would make a large party! And what would you do with them, when here assembled, my man?""I wad feed them," said Jock, "wi' the sheep and nowt in the park, and the birds frae the heather, and the fish frae the burns, and gie them the flowers aboot the doors--and schule them weel, and learn them trades: and shoot them or hang them, if they didna dae weel efter hin.""Ha! ha! ha! And what would you do with me and my wife and daughters?" asked his lordship."I wad mak' you their faither, and them their mither and sisters. Ye never wad be idle or want pleasure, yer honour, among sic a hantle o' fine lads and lasses.""Never idle--never idle! I should think not! But as to the pleasure! Ha! ha! ha!" And his lordship laughed with much glee at the idea of his being master of such an establishment."Eh! sir," said Jock, with fire in his eyes, "ye dinna ken what poverty is! Ye never lay trimblin' on a stair-head on a snawy nicht; nor got a spoonfu' or twa o' cauld parritch in the mornin' tae cool ye, wi' curses and kicks tae warm ye, for no' stealin' yer ain meat; nor see'd yer wee brithers an' sisters deein' like troots, openin' their mooths wi' naethin' to pit in them; or faix ye wad be thankfu' tae help mitherless and faitherless bairns, and instead o' sendin' young craturs like them tae the jail, ye wad sen' aulder folk that ill-used and neglected them; ay, and maybe some rich folk, and some ministers and elders as weel, for helpin' naebody but themsel's!"His lordship looked in silence with wide-open eyes at Jock; and for a moment, amidst his ease and luxury, his fits ofennuiand difficulty in killing time, his sense of the shallowness and emptiness of much of his life, with the selfishness of idle society, there flashed upon his naturally kind heart a gleam of noble duties yet to perform, and noble privileges yet to enjoy, though not perhaps in the exact form suggested by Jock Hall. But this was not the time to discuss these. So he only said, "You are not a bad fellow--not at all. Wiser men have said more foolish things," he added, as if thinking to himself; and then approaching Jock with a kindly smile, offered him some money."Na! na!" said Jock, "I didna come here to beg; I'll no' tak' onything.""Come! come!" said his lordship, "you won't disoblige me, will you?" and he thrust the money into Jock's hand; and ringing a bell, he ordered the servant who appeared in reply to it to take him to the servants' hall, and to send Hugh Spence to the business room.Jock made a low bow and salaam, and retired."William," said his lordship to another servant, who happened to be passing, "go to the old clothes press, and select a complete suit for that poor fellow. Be kind to him: see that he has some food and a glass of beer."When Hugh was summoned into the presence of his lordship, he had sad misgivings as to the object of the interview, and had carefully prepared a long apologetic speech, which however he had hardly begun when he was cut short by his lordship saying, "You have picked up a rare character, Spence, upon my honour! But I like the fellow. He is an original, and has something good in him. I can't quite make him out.""Nor me either, my lord, I do assure you," interrupted Spence."But I have taken rather a fancy to him," continued his lordship. "He is neither knave nor fool; but seems to have been ill-used, and to have had a hard time of it. There is something about him which takes me, and if any friend of your father's has an interest in him, I won't object--quite the reverse--to your getting him something to do about the kennels. I really would like it. So look to him."Hugh having made a low bow and remained discreetly silent, according to his own prudential aphorism of "least said being soonest mended", his lordship conversed on some business matters connected with the game, with which we have nothing to do, and then dismissed him.
[image]"I WAS BUT AXIN' A CEEVIL QUESTION, MR. SPENCE" Page 117
[image]
[image]
"I WAS BUT AXIN' A CEEVIL QUESTION, MR. SPENCE" Page 117
"An' what if I do? what if I do?" retorted the keeper.
"Jist this," said Jock, without a movement in the muscles of his countenance, "that I ken them tae for mony a year; and sae baith o' us hae common freens amang the hills."
"What doyeken aboot them?" asked Spence, not more pacified, nor less puzzled.
"Because," said Jock, "I hae shot ower them a' as a poacher--my name is Jock Hall, parish o' Drumsylie--and I hae had the best o' sport on them."
This was too much for the Senior Keeper. With an exclamation that need not be recorded, Spence made an attempt to rise with the help of his crutches, but was gently laid back in his chair by Jock, who said--
"Muckle ye'll mak' o't! as the auld wife said to the guse waumlin' in the glaur. Sit doon--sit doon, Mr. Spence; I'll be as guid to you as Hugh; an' I'll ca' in Hugh ony time ye like: sae be easy. For I wish atween oorsels to tell ye aboot an auld poacher and an auld acquaintance o' yours and mine, Sergeant Adam Mercer; for it's aboot him I've come." This announcement induced John to resume his seat without further trouble, on which Jock said, "Noo, I'll ca' Hugh to ye, gin ye bid me, as ye seem feared for me;" and he motioned as if to go to the door.
"I'm no feared for you nor for mortal man!" replied Spence, asserting his dignity in spite of his fears; "but, my fac!yemight be feared, pittin' yer fit into a trap like this! and if Hugh grips ye!----" He left the rest to be inferred.
"Pfuff!" said Jock. "As to that, gudeman, I hae been in every jail roon' aboot! A jail wad be comfort tae me compared wi' the hole I sleepit in the nicht I left Drumsylie, and the road I hae travelled sinsyne! But wull ye no' hear me about Adam Mercer?"
Spence could not comprehend the character he had to deal with, but beginning to think him probably "a natural", he told him to "say awa', as the titlin' remarked tae the gowk".
Jock now gathered all his wits about him, so as to be able to give a long and tolerably lucid history of the events which were then agitating the little world of Drumsylie, and of which the Sergeant was the centre. He particularly described the part that Mr. Smellie had taken in the affair, and, perhaps, from more than one grudge he bore to the said gentleman, he made him the chief if not the only real enemy of the Sergeant.
The only point which Jock failed to make intelligible to the keeper was his account of the starling. It may have been the confusion of ideas incident to old age when dealing with subjects which do not link themselves to the past; but so it was that there got jumbled up in the keeper's mind such a number of things connected with a bird which was the bairn of the Sergeant's bairn, and whistled songs, and told Jock he was a man, and disturbed the peace of the parish, and broke the Sabbath, and deposed the Sergeant, that he could not solve the mystery for himself, nor could Jock make it clear. He therefore accepted Spence's confusion as the natural result of a true estimate of the facts of the case, which few but the Kirk Session could understand, and accordingly he declared that "the bird was a kin' o' witch, a maist extraordinar' cratur, that seemed to ken a' things, and unless he was mista'en wad pit a' things richt gin the hinner en'". The keeper declared "his detestation o' a' speaking birds"; and his opinion that "birds were made for shootin', or for ha'ein' their necks thrawn for eatin'--unless when layin' or hatchin'".
But what practical object, it may be asked, had Hall in view in this volunteer mission of his? It was, as he told the keeper, to get him to ask his Lordship, as being the greatest man in the district, to interfere in the matter and by all possible means to get Smellie, if not Mr. Porteous, muzzled. "Ye're Adam's coosin, I hear," said Jock, "and the head man wi' his Lordship, and ye hae but tae speak the word and deliver the Sergeant an' his bird frae the grips o' these deevils."
Jock had, however, touched a far sorer point than he was aware of when he described Smellie as the propagator of the early history of the Sergeant as a poacher. This, along with all that had been narrated, so roused the indignation of Spence, who had the warmest regard for the Sergeant, apart from his being his cousin and from the fact of his having connived in some degree at his poaching, that, forgetting for a moment the polluted presence of a confessed poacher like Hall, he told him to call Hugh; adding, however, "What wull he do if he kens what ye are, my man? It's easy to get oot o' the teeth o' an auld doug like me, wha's a guid bit aboon fourscore. But Hugh!--faix he wad pit baith o' us ower his head! Whatwadhe say if he kent a poacher was sitting at his fireside?"
"I didna say, Mr. Spence, that Iama poacher, but that I was ane; nor did I say that I wad ever be ane again; nor could Hugh or ony ane else pruve mair than has been pruved a'ready against me, and paid for by sowl and body to jails and judges: sae let that flee stick to the wa'!" answered Jock; and having done so, he went to the door, and, with stentorian lungs, called the younger keeper so as to wake up all the dogs with howl and bark as if they had been aware of the poaching habits of the shouter.
As Hugh came to the door, at which Jock calmly stood, he said to him in a careless tone, like one who had known him all his life: "Yer faither wants ye;" and, entering the kitchen, he resumed his former seat, folding his arms and looking at the fire.
"Wha the sorrow hae ye gotten here, faither, cheek by jowl wi' ye?" asked the tall and powerful keeper, scanning Jock with a most critical eye.
"A freen' o' my cousin's, Adam Mercer," replied old Spence. "But speer ye nae questions, Hugh, and ye'll get nae lees. He has come on business that I'll tell ye aboot. But tak' him ben in the meantime, and gie him some bread and cheese, wi' a drap milk, till his supper's ready. He'll stay here till morning. Mak' a bed ready for him in the laft."
Hugh, in the absence of his wife, obeyed his father's orders, though not without a rather strong feeling of lessened dignity as a keeper in being thus made the servant of a ragged-looking tramp. While Jock partook of his meal in private, and afterwards went out to smoke his pipe and look about him, Old Spence entered into earnest conference with his son Hugh. After giving his rather confused and muddled, yet sufficiently correct, edition of Mercer's story, he concentrated his whole attention and that of his son on the fact that Peter Smellie was the enemy of Adam Mercer, and had been so for some time; that he had joined the minister to persecute him; and, among other things, had also revealed the story of Adam's poaching more than thirty years before, to raise prejudice against his character and that of Spence as a keeper.
"Wha's Smellie? I dinna mind him," asked Hugh.
"Nae loss, Hugh!--nae loss at a'. I never spak' o't to onybody afore, and ye'll no clipe aboot it, for every dog should hae his chance; and if a man should miss wi' ae barrel, he may nevertheless hit wi' the tither; and I dinna want to fash the man mair than is necessar'. But this same Smellie had a shop here at the clachan aboon twenty years syne, and I got him custom frae the Castle; an' didna the rogue--Is the door steekit?" asked the old man in a whisper. Hugh nodded. "An' didna the rogue," continued old John, "forge my name tae a bill for £50? That did he; and I could hae hanged him! But I never telt on him till this hour, but made him pay the half o't, and I paid the ither half mysel'; and Adam see'd me sae distressed for the money that he gied me £5 in a present tae help. Naebody kent o't excep' mysel' and Adam, wha was leevin' here at the time, and saw it was a forgery; and I axed himneverto say a word aboot it, and I'll wager he never did, for a clean-speerited man and honourable is Adam Mercer! Weel, Smellie by my advice left the kintraside for Drumsylie, and noo he's turning against Adam! Isna that awfu'? Is't no' deevilish? Him like a doug pointing at Adam! As weel a moose point at a gled!"
"That's a particular bonnie job indeed," said Hugh. "I wad like to pepper the sneaky chiel wi' snipe-dust for't. But what can be dune noo?"
"Dune! Mair than Smellie wad like, and enouch to mak' him lowse his grip o' Adam!" said the old man. "I hae a letter till him bamboozlin' my head, and I'll maybe grip it in the mornin' and pit it on paper afore breakfast-time! Be ye ready to write it doon as I tell ye, and it'll start Smellie ower his wabs and braid claith, or I'm mista'en!"
Hugh was ordered to meet his father in the morning to indite the intended epistle.
CHAPTER XVI
FISHERS AND FISHING
As the evening drew on, the family who occupied the keeper's house gathered together like crows to their rookery. Mrs. Hugh, who had been helping at a large washing in "the big house", returned with a blythe face, full of cheer and womanly kindness.
"Hech! but I hae had sic a day o't! What a washing! an' it's no' half dune! But wha hae we here?" she asked, as she espied Jock seated near the fire. "Dae I ken ye?" she further inquired, looking at him with a sceptical smile, as if she feared to appear rude to one whom she ought, perhaps, to have recognised.
Jock, with a sense of respect due to her, rose, and said, "I houp no', for maybe I wad be nae credit tae ye as an acqua'ntance."
"A freen' o' my cousin's, Adam Mercer, o' Drumsylie," remarked old Spence. "Sit doon, my man!"
"I'm glad tae see ye," said the happy sonsy wife, stretching out her hand to Jock, who took it reluctantly, and gazed in the woman's face with an awkward expression.
"It's been saft weather, and bad for travellin', and ye hae come a far gait," she continued; and forthwith began to arrange her house. Almost at her heels the children arrived. There were two flaxen-haired girls, one ten and the other about twelve, with bare feet, and their locks tied up like sheaves of ripe golden grain. Then came in a stout lad of about seven, from school and play. All looked as fresh and full of life as young roe from the forest.
"Gang awa', bairns, and snod yersels," said Mrs. Hugh.
"This man," said old Spence, who was jealous of his authority over the household, pointing to Jock, "wull tak' his supper wi' us. He's tae sleep in the stable-laft."
"He's welcome, he's welcome," said Mrs. Hugh. "The bed's nae braw, but it's clean, and it's our best for strangers."
The last to enter, as the sun was setting, was John, the eldest, a lad of about fourteen, the very picture of a pure-eyed, ruddy-complexioned, healthy, and happy lad. He had left school to assist his father in attending to his duties.
"What luck, Johnnie?" asked his father, as the boy entered with his fishing basket over his shoulder.
"Middlin' only," replied John; "the water was raither laigh, and the tak' wasna guid. There were plenty o' rises, but the troots were unco shy. But I hae gotten, for a' that, a guid wheen;" and he unslung his basket and poured out from it a number of fine trout.
Jock's attention was now excited. Here was evidence of an art which he flattered himself he understood, and could speak about with some authority.
"Pretty fair," was his remark, as he rose and examined them; "whaur got ye them?"
"In the Blackcraig water," replied the boy.
"Let me luik at yer flee, laddie?" asked Jock. The boy produced it. "Heckle, bad!--ye should hae tried a teal's feather on a day like this."
Johnnie looked with respect at the stranger. "Are ye a fisher?" he asked.
"I hae tried my han'," said Jock. And so the conversation began, until soon the two were seated together at the window. Then followed such a talk on the mysteries of the craft as none but students of the angle could understand:--the arrangement and effect of various "dressings", of wings, bodies, heckles, &c., being discussed with intense interest, until all acknowledged Jock as a master.
"Ye seem tae understan' the business weel," remarked Hugh.
"I wad need," replied Jock. "When a man's life, no' to speak o' his pleasure, depen's on't, he needs tae fish wi' a watchfu' e'e and canny han'. But at a' times, toom or hungry, it's a great diverteesement!"
Both Johnnie and his father cordially assented to the truth of the sentiment.
"Eh, man!" said Jock, thus encouraged to speak on a favourite topic, "what a conceit it is when ye reach a fine run on a warm spring mornin', the wuds hotchin' wi' birds, an' dauds o' licht noos and thans glintin' on the water; an' the water itsel' in trim order, a wee doon, after a nicht's spate, and wi' a drap o' porter in't, an' rowin' and bubblin' ower the big stanes, curlin' into the linn and oot o't; and you up tae the henches in a dark neuk whaur the fish canna see ye; an' than to get a lang cast in the breeze that soughs in the bushes, an' see yer flee licht in the vera place ye want, quiet as a midge lichts on yer nose, or a bumbee on a flower o' clover, an'----"
Johnnie was bursting with almost as much excitement as Jock, but did not interrupt him except with a laugh expressive of his delight.
"An' than," continued Jock, "whan a muckle chiel' o' a salmon, wi'oot time tae consider whether yer flee is for his wame or only for his mooth--whether it's made by natur' or by Jock Hall--plays flap! and by mistak' gangs to digest what he has gotten for his breakfast, but suspec's he canna swallow the line alang wi' his mornin' meal till he taks some exercise!--an' then tae see the line ticht, and the rod bendin' like a heuk, and tae fin' something gaun frae the fish up the line and up the rod till it reaches yer verra heart, that gangspit patat yer throat like a tickin' watch; until the bonnie cratur', efter rinnin' up and doon like mad, noo skulkin' aside a stane tae cure his teethache, then bilkin' awa' wi' a scunner at the line and trying every dodge, syne gies in, comes tae yer han' clean beat in fair play, and lies on the bank sayin' 'Wae's me' wi' his tail, an' makin' his will wi' his gills and mooth time aboot!--eh, man, it's splendid!" Jock wearied himself with the description.
"Whaur hae ye fished?" asked Hugh, after a pause during which he had evidently enjoyed Jock's description.
"In the wast water and east water; in the big linn an' wee linn, in the Loch o' the Whins, in the Red Burn, an' in----"
"I dinna ken thae waters at a'," remarked the keeper, interrupting him, "nor ever heard o' them!"
"Nor me," chimed in old John, "though I hae been here for mair than fifty year."
"Maybe no'," said Jock with a laugh, "for they're in the back o' the beyonts, and that's a place few folk hae seen, I do assure you--ha! ha! ha!" Jock had, in fact, fished the best streams watched by the keepers throughout the whole district. Young John was delighted with this new acquaintance, and looked up to him with the greatest reverence.
"What kin' o' flee duve ye fish wi'?" asked Johnnie. "Hae ye ony aboot ye e'enoo?"
"I hae a few," said Hall, as he unbuttoned his waistcoat, displaying a tattered shirt within, and, diving into some hidden recess near his heart, drew forth a large old pocket-book and placed it on the table. He opened it with caution and circumspection, and spread out before the delighted Johnnie, and his no less interested father, entwined circles of gut, with flies innumerable.
"That's the ane," Jock would say, holding up a small, black, hairy thing, "I killed ten dizzen wi'--thumpers tae, three pun's some o' them--afore twa o'clock. Eh, man, he's a murderin' chiel this!" exhibiting another. "But it was this ither ane," holding up one larger and more gaudy, "that nicked four salmon in three hours tae their great surprise! And thae flees," taking up other favourites, "wi' the muirfowl wing and black body, are guid killers; but isna this a cracker wi' the wee touch o' silver? it kilt mair salmon--whaur, ye needna speer--than I could carry hame on a heather wuddie! But, Johnnie," he added after a pause, "I maun, as yer freen', warn ye that it's no' the flee, nor the water, nor the rod, nor the win', nor the licht, can dae the job, wi'oot the watchfu' e'e and steady han', an' a feelin' for the business that's kin' o' born wi' a fisher, but hoo that comes aboot I dinna ken--I think I could maist catch fish in a boyne o' water if there were ony tae catch!"
CHAPTER XVII
THE KEEPER'S HOME
While the preparations for supper were going on within doors, Jock went out to have a "dauner", or saunter, but, in truth, from a modest wish to appear as if not expecting to be asked to partake of supper with the family.
The table was spread with a white home-made linen cloth, and deep plates were put down, each with a horn spoon beside it. A large pot, containing potatoes which had been pared before they were placed on the fire, was now put on the floor, and fresh butter with some salt having been added to its contents, the whole was beat and mashed with a heavy wooden beetle worked by Hugh and his son--for the work required no small patience and labour--into a soft mass, forming an excellent dish of "champed potatoes", which, when served up with rich milk, is "a dainty dish to set before a king", even without the four-and-twenty blackbirds. Then followed a second course of "barley scones" and thick crisp oatmeal cakes, with fresh butter, cheese, and milk.
Before supper was served Jock Hall was missed, and Johnnie sent in search of him. After repeated shouts he found him wandering about the woods, but had the greatest difficulty in persuading him to join the family. Jock said, "It wasna for him tae gang ben",--"he had had eneuch tae eat in the afternoon",--"he wad hae a bite efter hin", &c. But being at last persuaded to accept the pressing invitation, he entered, and without speaking a word seated himself in the place allotted to him.
"Tak' in yer chair, Maister Hall,"--Jock could hardly believe his ears!--"and mak' what supper ye can," said Mrs. Hugh. "We're plain kintra folk hereawa',"--an apology to Jock for their having nothing extra at supper to mark their respect for a friend of the Sergeant's! What were his thoughts? The character of an impostor seemed forced upon him when he most desired to be an honest man.
Then the old man reverently took off his "Kilmarnock cool", a coloured worsted night-cap, and said grace, thanking God for all His mercies, "of the least of which," he added, "we are unworthy". After supper Mrs. Hugh gave a long account of the labours of the day, and of the big washing, and told how she had met Lady Mary, and Lady Caroline, and Lord Bennock, and how they had been talking to the children, and "speering for faither and grandfaither".
A happy family was that assembled under the keeper's roof. The youngest child, a boy, was ever welcome on old John's knee, who never seemed able to exhaust the pleasure he derived from his grandson's prattle. His large watch, which approached in size to a house clock, with its large pewter seal, was an endless source of amusement to the child; so also was the splendid rabbit shadowed on the wall, with moving ears and moving mouth, created by John's hands; and his imitation of dogs, cats, and all other domestic animals, in which he was an adept;--nay, his very crutches were turned to account to please the boy, and much more to please himself. The elder daughters clung round their mother in a group, frankly talking to her in mutual confidence and love. The boys enjoyed the same liberty with their father, and indulged unchecked in expressions of affection. All was freedom without rudeness, play without riot, because genuine heartfelt affection united all.
Jock did not join in the conversation, except when he was asked questions by Mrs. Hugh about Drumsylie, its shops and its people. On the whole he was shy and reserved. Anyone who could have watched his eye and seen his heart would have discovered both busy in contemplating a picture of ordinary family life such as the poor outcast had never before beheld. But Jock still felt as if he was not in his right place--as if he would have been cast out into the darkness had his real character been known. His impressions of a kind of life he never dreamt of were still more deepened when, before going to bed, the large Bible was placed on the table, and Hugh, amidst the silence of the family, said, "We'll hae worship." The chapter for the evening happened to be the fifteenth of St. Luke. It was as if written expressly for Jock. Are such adaptations to human wants to be traced to mere chance? Surely He who can feed the wild beasts of the desert, or the sparrow amidst the waste of wintry snows, can give food to the hungry soul of a Prodigal Son, as yet ignorant of the food he needs and of the Father who alone can supply it.
They did not ask Jock if he would remain for evening worship. "The stranger within the gate" was assumed to be, for the time, a member of the household. It was for him to renounce his recognised right, not for the family to question it. But Jock never even argued the point with himself. He listened with head bent down as if ashamed to hold it up, and following the example set to him by the family, knelt down--for the first time in his life--in prayer. Did he pray? Was it all a mere form? Was it by constraint, and not willingly? What his thoughts were on such an occasion, or whether they were gathered up in prayer to the living God, who can tell? But if the one thought even, for the first time, possessed him, that maybe there was a Person beyond the seen and temporal, to whom the world and man belonged, whose Name he could now associate with no evil but with all good, who possibly knew him and wished him to be good like Himself;--if there was even a glimmer in his soul, as he knelt down, that he might say as well as others, and along with them, "Our Father, which art in Heaven", then was there cast into his heart, though he knew it not, the germ of a new life which might yet grow into a faith and love which would be life eternal.
The prayer of Hugh the keeper was simple, earnest, and direct, a real utterance from one person to another--yet as from a man to God, couched in his own homely dialect to Him whom the people of every language and tongue can worship. The prayer was naturally suggested by the chapter which was read. He acknowledged that all were as lost sheep; as money lost in the dust of earth; as miserable prodigals lost to their Father and to themselves, and who were poor and needy, feeding on husks, having no satisfaction, and finding no man to give unto them. He prayed God to bring them all into the fold of the Good Shepherd, who had given His life for the sheep, and to keep them in it; to gather them as the lost coins into the treasury of Him who was rich, yet who for our sakes became poor; he prayed God to help them all to say, "I will arise and go to my Father", in the assured hope that their Father would meet them afar off, and receive them with joy. After remembering the afflicted in body and mind, the orphan and widow, the outcast and stranger, he asked that God, who had mercy on themselves who deserved nothing, would make them also merciful to others; and he concluded with the Lord's Prayer.
Had any one seen poor Hall that night as he lay in the hay-loft, a clean blanket under him and more than one over him, they might have discovered in his open eyes, and heard in his half-muttered expressions, and noticed even from his wakeful tossings to and fro, a something stirring in his soul the nature or value of which he himself could not comprehend or fully estimate.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE KEEPER'S LETTER
Old John Spence was an early riser. He did not share Charles Lamb's fears of indulging in the ambition of rising with the sun. The latter part of the day was to him a period of repose, a siesta of half-sleepy meditation, which not unfrequently passed into a deep-toned sleep in his arm-chair. In a lucid interval, during the evening of Jock's arrival, he had been considering how he might best help the Sergeant out of his difficulties. He had not for a moment accepted of Jock's policy suggesting his lordship's interference in the great Drumsylie case. With the instinct of an old servant, he felt that such presumption on his part was out of the question. So he had informed Jock, bidding him not to think of his lordship, who would not and could not do anything in the matter. He assured him at the same time that he would try what could be done by himself to muzzle Smellie. Having accordingly matured his plans, he was ready at daybreak to execute them. He embraced therefore the first opportunity of taking Hugh into a small closet, where the little business which required writing was generally transacted, and where a venerable escritoire stood, in whose drawers and secret recesses were carefully deposited all papers relating to that department of his lordship's estate over which John was chief.
The door having been carefully barred, the old keeper seated in an arm-chair, and his son Hugh at the escritoire, John said, "Get the pen and paper ready."
"A' richt," said Hugh, having mended his pen and tried it on his thumb-nail, looking at it carefully as he held it up in the light.
"Weel, then, begin! Write--'Sir;' no' 'Dear Sir,' but jist 'Sir'. Of coorse ye'll pit the direction 'To Mr. Peter Smellie'. Eh?--halt a wee--should I say Mr. or plain Peter? Jist mak' it plain Peter--say, 'To Peter Smellie'."
"To Peter Smellie," echoed Hugh.
"John Spence, keeper--or raither John Spence, senior keeper--wishes tae tell ye that ye're a scoondrill."
After writing these words with the exception of the last, Hugh said, "Be canny, faither, or maybe he micht prosecute you."
"Let him try't!" replied John; "but let scoondrill stan'. It's the vera pooder and shot o' my letter; wi'oot that, it's a' tow and colfin."
"I'm no' sure, faither, if I can spell't," said Hugh, who did not like the more than doubtful expression, and put off the writing of it by asking, "Hoo, faither, d'ye spell scoondrill?"
"What ither way but the auld way?"
"But I never wrote it afore, for I hae had little to dae wi' ony o' the squad."
"Weel, I wad say--s, k, oo, n, d, r, i, l, l, or to that effec'. Keep in thedrillwhatever ye dae, for that's what I mean tae gie him!"
Having written this very decided introduction, Hugh went on with his letter, which when completed ran as follows:--
"John Spence, Senior Keeper, Castle Bennock, to Peter Smellie, Draper, Drumsylie.
"You are a skoondrill, and you kno it! But nobody else knos it but my son and me and Serjent Mercer. I wuss you to understan' that he knos all about yon black business o' yours, 20 year back. This comes to let you kno that unless you leve him alone, and don't molest him, I will send you to Botany Bay, as you deserve. Medle not with the Sergeant, or it wull be to your cost. Attend to this hint. I wull have you weel watched. You are in Mr. Mercer's power. Bewar!
"JOHN SPENCE."
"I houp," said John, as he had the letter read over to him, "that will mak the whitrat leave aff sookin' the Sergeant's throat! If no', I'll worry him like a brock, or hunt him like a fox aff the kintra side. But no' a word o' this, mind ye, tae ony leevin' cratur, mair especial tae yon trampin' chiel. Gie Smellie a chance, bad as he is. Sae let the letter be sent aff this verra nicht wi' Sandy the Post. The sooner the better. The nesty taed that he is! Him to be preaching tae a man like Adam oot o' his clay hole!"
The letter was despatched that night by the post. It was not thought discreet to intrust Jock with the secret, or to let Adam Mercer know in the meantime anything about this counter-mine.
Breakfast being over, Hall proposed to return to Drumsylie. Before doing so he wished some positive assurance of obtaining aid in favour of the Sergeant from Spence. But all he could get out of the keeper was to "keep his mind easy--no' to fear--he wad look efter the Sergeant".
Old Spence would not, however, permit of Jock's immediate departure, but invited him to remain a day or two "and rest himsel'". It was benevolently added, that "he could help Johnnie to fish at an odd hour, and to sort the dogs and horses in ordinar' hours". The fact was, old Spence did not wish Hall to return immediately to Drumsylie, until events there had time to be affected by his letter to Smellie. Jock was too glad of the opportunity afforded him of proving that he might be trusted to do whatever work he was fitted for, and that he was not "a lazy tramper" by choice.
As the week was drawing to an end, Jock made up his mind to return to his old haunts, for home he had none. He had also an undefined longing to see the Sergeant, and to know how it fared with him.
But when the day arrived for his departure, Hugh suggested that perhaps Jock would like to see the Castle. It was not, he said, every day he would have such a chance of seeing so grand a place, and maybe he might even see his lordship!--at a distance. Besides, it would not take him far out of his road; and Hugh would accompany him a part of the way home, as he had to visit a distant part of the estate in the discharge of his professional duties.
Jock's curiosity was excited by the thought of seeing the great house not as a beggar or a poacher, but under the genteel protection of a keeper and confidential servant, and when a live lord might be scanned from afar without fear.
When Jock came to bid farewell to old Spence, he approached him bonnet in hand, with every token of respect. He said little but "Thank ye--thank ye, Mr. Spence, for yer guidness;" and whispering, added, "I'm sorry if I offended ye. But maybe ye could get a job for me if I canna fa' in wi' honest wark at Drumsylie? I'll break my back, or break my heart, tae please you or ony dacent man that 'll help me to feed my body--it's no mickle buik--and to cover't--and little will keep the cauld oot, for my hide is weel tanned wi' win' and weather."
Spence looked with interest at the poor but earnest pleader at his elbow, and nodded encouragingly to him.
"Eh, man!" said Jock, "what a pity ye dinna snuff! I wad lee ye my auld snuff-box gin ye wad tak' it."
Spence smiled and thanked him--ay even shook hands with him!--an honour which went to Jock's heart; and Spence added, "My compliments to my cousin Adam, and tell him to stan' at ease and keep his pooder dry."
Mrs. Spence had prepared a good "rung" of bread and cheese, which she stuffed into Jock's pocket to support him in his journey.
"Awfu' guid o' ye--maist awfu'!" said Jock, as he eyed the honest woman pressing the food into its ragged receptacle.
Jock looked round, and asked for Johnnie. On being told that he was at the stables, he went off to find him, and, having succeeded, took him aside and said--"Johnnie, laddie, I hae been treated by yer folk like a lord, tho' efter a' I dinna weel ken hoo a lord is treated; but, howsomdever, wi'oot ony clavers aboot it, here's a present for you o' the best buik o' flees in the haill kintra side. Tak' them, and welcome." And Jock produced his "Book of Sports", which had been his most cheerful companion for many a year, and almost forcing John to take it, added, "I hae a obligation to ax: never tell yer folk aboot it till I'm awa', and never tell ony stranger atween this and Drumsylie that ye got it frae Jock Ha'." And before the astonished boy could thank him as the generous giver of so many keys to unlock every pool of its treasures, on every day in the year and at all seasons, Jock ran off to join Hugh.
CHAPTER XIX
EXTREMES MEET
In a short time Hugh was conducting Jock towards the Castle. After they passed the lodge, and were walking along the beautiful avenue and beneath the fine old trees, with the splendid park sweeping around, and the turrets of the Castle in sight, Hugh said, "Now, Hall, dinna speak to onybody unless they speak to you, and gie a discreet answer. Dae my biddin'; for I'm takin' a great responsibility in bringin' ye in here. His lordship maybe wadna be pleased to see a trampin' chiel like you here. But I'll tak' care he doesna see ye, nor if possible hear tell o' ye."
"Never fear me," said Jock; "I'll be as quaet as a dead rabbit. But, Hugh man, I hae seen his lordship afore."
"Whaur?" asked Hugh, with an expression of astonishment.
"He ance tried me, as a maugistrat'," replied Jock, equally placid.
"Tried ye!" exclaimed Hugh, pausing in his walk as if he had got into one scrape and was about to enter a second--"tried ye for what?"
"Oh, never heed," said Jock; "dinna be ower particular. It was a job that ended in a drucken habble I got into wi' twa tailor chappies that struck me, and my head and e'e were bun' wi' a bluidy napkin at the trial, and his lordship wull no' mind on me; tho' faix! I mind on him, for he sent me tae jail."
"Was that a'?" carelessly remarked Hugh. "Ye micht hae thrashed nine tailors and no' got yersel' hurt; I gripped three o' them mysel' when poachin'."
But Jock did not tell the whole history of one of his own poaching affrays along with the tailors.
Hugh ensconced Jock in the shrubbery until he ascertained from one of the servants that his lordship had gone out to walk in the grounds, that the ladies were taking an airing in the carriage, and that it was quite possible to get a peep into the great hall and the public rooms opening from it, without being discovered. As Hugh, accompanied by Jock, crept almost noiselessly along the passages, he directed with underbreath Jock's attention to the noble apartments, the arms and suits of mail hung round the wall of the great entrance-hall, the stags' heads, the stuffed birds, and one or two fine paintings of boar-hunts. But when the drawing-room door was opened, and there flashed upon Jock's eyes all the splendour of colour reflected from large mirrors, in which he saw, for the first time, his own odd figure from crown to toe, making him start back as if he had seen a ghost, and when through the windows he beheld all the beauty of flowers that filled the parterres, dotted withjets d'eaux, white statues and urns, and surrounded by bowery foliage, a vision presented itself which was as new to him as if he had passed into Eden from the lodgings of Mrs. Craigie.
He did not speak a word, but only remarked it was "nae doubt unco braw, and wad hae cost a heap o' siller". But, as they were retreating, suddenly the inner door of the hall opened, and his lordship stood before them!
"Heeven be aboot us!" ejaculated Spence, and in a lower voice added, "Dune for,--dune for life!" He looked around him, as if for some means of concealing himself, but in vain. The door by which they had entered was closed. There was no mode of exit. Jock, seeing only a plain-looking little gentleman in a Glengarry bonnet and tweed suit, never imagined that this could be a lord, and was accordingly quite composed. Spence, with his eyes fixed on the ground and his face flushed to the roots of his hair, seemed speechless.
His lordship was a slight-built man, of about forty, with pleasing hazel eyes and large moustache. He had retired from the army, and was much liked for his frank manner and good humour. Seeing his keeper in such perplexity, accompanied by so disreputable-looking a person, he said, "Hollo, Spence! whom have you got here? I hope not a poacher, eh?"
"I humbly beg your lordship's pardon; but, my lord, the fac' is----" stammered Hugh.
"Is that his lordship?" whispered Jock.
"Haud yer tongue!" replied Hugh in an undertone of intense vehemence. Then addressing his lordship, he said, "He's no poacher, my lord; no, no, but only----"
"Oh! an acquaintance, I suppose."
"No' that either, no' that either," interrupted Hugh, as his dignity was frying on account of his companion, whom he wished a hundred miles away, "but an acqua'ntance o' an acqua'ntance o' my faither's lang syne--a maist respectable man--Sergeant Mercer, in Drumsylie, and I took the leeberty, thinking yer lordship was oot, to----"
"To show him the house. Quite right, Spence; quite right; glad you did so." Then addressing Jock, he said, "Never here before, I suppose?"
Jock drew himself up, placed his hands along his sides, heels in, toes out, and gave the military salute.
"Been in the army? In what regiment? Have you seen service?"
"Yes, sir--yes, my lord," replied Jock; "as yer honour says, I ha'e seen service."
This was information to Spence, who breathed more freely on hearing such unexpected evidence of Jock's respectability.
"Where?" inquired his lordship, seating himself on one of the lobby chairs, and folding his arms.
"In the berrick-yaird o' Stirlin', yer honour," replied Jock; "but in what regiment I dinna mind. It was a first, second, or third something or anither; but I hae clean forgotten the name and number."
"The barrack-yard?" said his lordship, laughing; "pray how long did you serve his Majesty in that severe campaign?"
"Aboot a fortnicht," said Jock.
"What!" exclaimed his lordship; "a fortnight only? And what after that?"
"I ran aff as fast as I could," said Jock; "and never ran faster a' my days, till I reached Drumsylie."
Hugh turned his back as if also to run away, with sundry half-muttered exclamations of horror and alarm. His lordship burst into a fit of laughter, and said,--"On my honour, you're a candid fellow!" But he evidently assumed that Jock was probably a half-witted character, who did not comprehend the full meaning of his admission. He was confirmed in his supposition by Jock going on to give a history of his military life in the most easy and simple fashion,--
"I 'listed when I was fou'; and though I had nae objections at ony time to fire a gun at a bird or a Frenchman, or tae fecht them that wad fecht me, yet the sodjers at Stirlin' made a fule o' me, and keepit me walkin' and trampin' back and forrid for twa weeks in the yaird, as if they were breakin' a horse; and I could dae naething, neither fish, nor e'en shoot craws, wi'oot the leave o' an ill-tongued corporal. I couldna thole that, could I? It wasna in the bargain, and sae I left, and they didna think it worth their while to speer after me."
"Egad!" said his lordship, laughing, "I dare say not, I dare say not! Do you know what they might have done to you if they had caught you, my man?" asked his lordship.
"Shot me, I expec'," said Jock; "but I wasna worth the pooder; and, tae tell the truth, I wad raither be shot like a gled for harryin' a paitrick's nest, than be kept a' my days like a gowk in a cage o' a berricks at Stirlin'! But I didna heed atweel whether they shot me or no'," added Jock, looking round him, and stroking his chin as if in a half dream.
"The black dog tak' ye!" said Spence, who lost his temper. "My lord, I declare----"
"Never mind, Spence, never mind; let him speak to me; and go you to the servants' hall until I send for you."
Spence bowed and retired, thankful to be released from his present agony. His lordship, who had a passion for characters which the keeper could not comprehend, gave a sign to Jock to remain, and then went on with the following catechism.
"What did your parents do?"
"Little guid and mickle ill."
"Were you at school?"
"No' that I mind o'."
"How have ye lived?"
"Guid kens!"
"What have you been?"
"A ne'er-do-weel--a kin' o' cheat-the-widdie. Sae folk tell me, and I suppose they're richt."
"Are you married?"
"That's no' a bad ane, efter a'!" said Jock, with a quiet laugh, turning his head away.
"A bad what?" asked his lordship, perplexed by the reply.
"I jist thocht," said Jock, "yer honour was jokin', to think that ony wumman wad marry me! He! he! Lassies wad be cheaper than cast-awa' shoon afore ony o' them wad tak' Jock Ha'--unless," he added, in a lower tone, with a laugh, "ane like Luckie Craigie. But yer lordship 'ill no' ken her, I'se warrant?"
"I have not that honour," said his lordship, with a smile. "But I must admit that you don't give yourself a good character, anyhow."
"I hae nane to gie," said Jock, with the same impassible look.
"On my word," added his lordship, "I think you're honest!"
"It's mair," said Jock, "than onybody else thinks. But if I had wark, I'm no' sure but I wad be honest!"
His lordship said nothing, but stared at Hall as if measuring him from head to foot. Jock returned his gaze. It was as if two different portions of a broken-up world had met. His lordship felt uncertain whether to deal with Jock as a fool or as a reprobate. He still inclined to the opinion that he had "a want", and accordingly continued his catechism, asking,--
"What would you like to have?"
"It's no' for me tae say," replied Jock; "beggars shouldna be choosers."
"Perhaps you would have no objection to have this fine house--eh?" asked his lordship, with a smile.
"I'll no' say that I wad," replied Jock.
"And what would you make of it?"
"I wad," replied Jock, "fill't fu' wi' puir ne'er-do-weel faitherless and mitherless bairns, and pit Sergeant Mercer and his wife ower them--that's Mr. Spence's cousin, ye ken."
"Hillo!" said his lordship, "that would make a large party! And what would you do with them, when here assembled, my man?"
"I wad feed them," said Jock, "wi' the sheep and nowt in the park, and the birds frae the heather, and the fish frae the burns, and gie them the flowers aboot the doors--and schule them weel, and learn them trades: and shoot them or hang them, if they didna dae weel efter hin."
"Ha! ha! ha! And what would you do with me and my wife and daughters?" asked his lordship.
"I wad mak' you their faither, and them their mither and sisters. Ye never wad be idle or want pleasure, yer honour, among sic a hantle o' fine lads and lasses."
"Never idle--never idle! I should think not! But as to the pleasure! Ha! ha! ha!" And his lordship laughed with much glee at the idea of his being master of such an establishment.
"Eh! sir," said Jock, with fire in his eyes, "ye dinna ken what poverty is! Ye never lay trimblin' on a stair-head on a snawy nicht; nor got a spoonfu' or twa o' cauld parritch in the mornin' tae cool ye, wi' curses and kicks tae warm ye, for no' stealin' yer ain meat; nor see'd yer wee brithers an' sisters deein' like troots, openin' their mooths wi' naethin' to pit in them; or faix ye wad be thankfu' tae help mitherless and faitherless bairns, and instead o' sendin' young craturs like them tae the jail, ye wad sen' aulder folk that ill-used and neglected them; ay, and maybe some rich folk, and some ministers and elders as weel, for helpin' naebody but themsel's!"
His lordship looked in silence with wide-open eyes at Jock; and for a moment, amidst his ease and luxury, his fits ofennuiand difficulty in killing time, his sense of the shallowness and emptiness of much of his life, with the selfishness of idle society, there flashed upon his naturally kind heart a gleam of noble duties yet to perform, and noble privileges yet to enjoy, though not perhaps in the exact form suggested by Jock Hall. But this was not the time to discuss these. So he only said, "You are not a bad fellow--not at all. Wiser men have said more foolish things," he added, as if thinking to himself; and then approaching Jock with a kindly smile, offered him some money.
"Na! na!" said Jock, "I didna come here to beg; I'll no' tak' onything."
"Come! come!" said his lordship, "you won't disoblige me, will you?" and he thrust the money into Jock's hand; and ringing a bell, he ordered the servant who appeared in reply to it to take him to the servants' hall, and to send Hugh Spence to the business room.
Jock made a low bow and salaam, and retired.
"William," said his lordship to another servant, who happened to be passing, "go to the old clothes press, and select a complete suit for that poor fellow. Be kind to him: see that he has some food and a glass of beer."
When Hugh was summoned into the presence of his lordship, he had sad misgivings as to the object of the interview, and had carefully prepared a long apologetic speech, which however he had hardly begun when he was cut short by his lordship saying, "You have picked up a rare character, Spence, upon my honour! But I like the fellow. He is an original, and has something good in him. I can't quite make him out."
"Nor me either, my lord, I do assure you," interrupted Spence.
"But I have taken rather a fancy to him," continued his lordship. "He is neither knave nor fool; but seems to have been ill-used, and to have had a hard time of it. There is something about him which takes me, and if any friend of your father's has an interest in him, I won't object--quite the reverse--to your getting him something to do about the kennels. I really would like it. So look to him."
Hugh having made a low bow and remained discreetly silent, according to his own prudential aphorism of "least said being soonest mended", his lordship conversed on some business matters connected with the game, with which we have nothing to do, and then dismissed him.