"The more fool I, that did not souse him in the Thames," said Jenkin;
"and I was the lad who would not confess one word of who and what I
was, though they threatened to make me hug the Duke of Exeter's
daughter."[Footnote: A particular species of rack, used at the Tower
of London, was so called.]

"Wha is she, man?" said Richie; "she must be an ill-fashioned piece,
if you're so much afraid of her, and she come of such high kin."

"I mean the rack--the rack, man," said Jenkin. "Where were you bred
that never heard of the Duke of Exeter's daughter? But all the dukes
and duchesses in England could have got nothing out of me--so the
truth came out some other way, and I was set free.--Home I ran,
thinking myself one of the cleverest and happiest fellows in the ward.
And she--she--she wanted to pay me with _money_ for all my true
service! and she spoke so sweetly and so coldly at the same time, I
wished myself in the deepest dungeon of the Tower--I wish they had
racked me to death before I heard this Scottishman was to chouse me
out of my sweetheart!"

"But are ye sure ye have lost her?" said Richie; "it sounds strange in
my ears that my Lord Glenvarloch should marry the daughter of a
dealer,--though there are uncouth marriages made in London, I'll allow
that."

"Why, I tell you this lord was no sooner clear of the Tower, than he
and Master George Heriot comes to make proposals for her, with the
king's assent, and what not; and fine fair-day prospects of Court
favour for this lord, for he hath not an acre of land."

"Well, and what said the auld watch-maker?" said Richie; "was he not,
as might weel beseem him, ready to loop out of his skin-case for very
joy?"

"He multiplied six figures progressively, and reported the product--
then gave his consent."

"And what did you do?"

"I rushed into the streets," said the poor lad, "with a burning heart
and a blood-shot eye--and where did I first find myself, but with that
beldam, Mother Suddlechop--and what did she propose to me, but to take
the road?"

"Take the road, man? in what sense?" said Richie.

"Even as a clerk to Saint Nicholas--as a highwayman, like Poins and
Peto, and the good fellows in the play--and who think you was to be my
captain?--for she had the whole out ere I could speak to her--I fancy
she took silence for consent, and thought me damned too unutterably to
have one thought left that savoured of redemption--who was to be my
captain, but the knave that you saw me cudgel at the ordinary when you
waited on Lord Glenvarloch, a cowardly, sharking, thievish bully about
town here, whom they call Colepepper."

"Colepepper--umph--I know somewhat of that smaik," said Richie; "ken
ye by ony chance where he may be heard of, Master Jenkin?--ye wad do
me a sincere service to tell me."

"Why, he lives something obscurely," answered the apprentice, "on
account of suspicion of some villainy--I believe that horrid murder in
Whitefriars, or some such matter. But I might have heard all about him
from Dame Suddlechop, for she spoke of my meeting him at Enfield
Chase, with some other good fellows, to do a robbery on one that goes
northward with a store of treasure."

"And you did not agree to this fine project?" said Moniplies.

"I cursed her for a hag, and came away about my business," answered
Jenkin.

"Ay, and what said she to that, man? That would startle her," said
Richie.

"Not a whit. She laughed, and said she was in jest," answered Jenkin;
"but I know the she-devil's jest from her earnest too well to be taken
in that way. But she knows I would never betray her.'

"Betray her! No," replied Richie; "but are ye in any shape bound to
this birkie Peppercull, or Colepepper, or whatever they call him, that
ye suld let him do a robbery on the honest gentleman that is
travelling to the north, and may be a kindly Scot, for what we know?"

"Ay--going home with a load of English money," said Jenkin. "But be he
who he will, they may rob the whole world an they list, for I am
robbed and ruined."

Richie filled his friend's cup up to the brim, and insisted that he
should drink what he called "clean caup out." "This love," he said,
"is but a bairnly matter for a brisk young fellow like yourself,
Master Jenkin. And if ye must needs have a whimsy, though I think it
would be safer to venture on a staid womanly body, why, here be as
bonny lasses in London as this Peg-a-Ramsay. You need not sigh sae
deeply, for it is very true--there is as good fish in the sea as ever
came out of it. Now wherefore should you, who are as brisk and trig a
young fellow of your inches as the sun needs to shine on--wherefore
need you sit moping this way, and not try some bold way to better your
fortune?"

"I tell you, Master Moniplies," said Jenkin, "I am as poor as any Scot
among you--I have broke my indenture, and I think of running my
country."

"A-well-a-day!" said Richie; "but that maunna be, man--I ken weel, by
sad experience, that poortith takes away pith, and the man sits full
still that has a rent in his breeks. [Footnote: This elegant speech
was made by the Earl of Douglas, called Tineman after being wounded
and made prisoner at the battle of Shrewsbury, where

"His well labouring sword
 Had three times slain the semblance of the king,"]

But courage, man; you have served me heretofore, and I will serve you
now. If you will but bring me to speech of this same captain, it will
be the best day's work you ever did."

"I guess where you are, Master Richard--you would save your
countryman's long purse," said Jenkin. "I cannot see how that should
advantage me, but I reck not if I should bear a hand. I hate that
braggart, that bloody-minded, cowardly bully. If you can get me
mounted I care not if I show you where the dame told me I should meet
him--but you must stand to the risk, for though he is a coward
himself, I know he will have more than one stout fellow with him."

"We'll have a warrant, man," said Richie, "and the hue and cry, to
boot."

"We will have no such thing," said Jenkin, "if I am to go with you. I
am not the lad to betray any one to the harmanbeck. You must do it by
manhood if I am to go with you. I am sworn to cutter's law, and will
sell no man's blood."

"Aweel," said Richie, "a wilful man must have his way; ye must think
that I was born and bred where cracked crowns were plentier than whole
ones. Besides, I have two noble friends here, Master Lowestoffe of the
Temple, and his cousin Master Ringwood, that will blithely be of so
gallant a party."

"Lowestoffe and Ringwood!" said Jenkin; "they are both brave gallants-
-they will be sure company. Know you where they are to be found?"

"Ay, marry do I," replied Richie. "They are fast at the cards and
dice, till the sma' hours, I warrant them."

"They are gentlemen of trust and honour," said Jenkin, "and, if they
advise it, I will try the adventure. Go, try if you can bring them
hither, since you have so much to say with, them. We must not be seen
abroad together.--I know not how it is, Master Moniplies," continued
he, as his countenance brightened up, and while, in his turn, he
filled the cups, "but I feel my heart something lighter since I have
thought of this matter."

"Thus it is to have counsellors, Master Jenkin," said Richie; "and
truly I hope to hear you say that your heart is as light as a
lavrock's, and that before you are many days aulder. Never smile and
shake your head, but mind what I tell you--and bide here in the
meanwhile, till I go to seek these gallants. I warrant you, cart-ropes
would not hold them back from such a ploy as I shall propose to them."




CHAPTER XXXVI


  The thieves have bound the true men--
  Now, could thou and I rob the thieves, and go
   merrily to London.
                    _Henry IV., Part I._

The sun was high upon the glades of Enfield Chase, and the deer, with
which it then abounded, were seen sporting in picturesque groups among
the ancient oaks of the forest, when a cavalier and a lady, on foot,
although in riding apparel, sauntered slowly up one of the long alleys
which were cut through the park for the convenience of the hunters.
Their only attendant was a page, who, riding a Spanish jennet, which
seemed to bear a heavy cloak-bag, followed them at a respectful
distance. The female, attired in all the fantastic finery of the
period, with more than the usual quantity of bugles, flounces, and
trimmings, and holding her fan of ostrich feathers in one hand, and
her riding-mask of black velvet in the other, seemed anxious, by all
the little coquetry practised on such occasions, to secure the notice
of her companion, who sometimes heard her prattle without seeming to
attend to it, and at other times interrupted his train of graver
reflections, to reply to her.

"Nay, but, my lord--my lord, you walk so fast, you will leave me
behind you.--Nay, I will have hold of your arm, but how to manage with
my mask and my fan? Why would you not let me bring my waiting-
gentlewoman to follow us, and hold my things? But see, I will put my
fan in my girdle, soh!--and now that I have a hand to hold you with,
you shall not run away from me."

"Come on, then," answered the gallant, "and let us walk apace, since
you would not be persuaded to stay with your gentlewoman, as you call
her, and with the rest of the baggage.--You may perhaps see _that_,
though, you will not like to see."

She took hold of his arm accordingly; but as he continued to walk at
the same pace, she shortly let go her hold, exclaiming that he had
hurt her hand. The cavalier stopped, and looked at the pretty hand and
arm which she showed him, with exclamations against his cruelty. "I
dare say," she said, baring her wrist and a part of her arm, "it is
all black and blue to the very elbow."

"I dare say you are a silly little fool," said the cavalier,
carelessly kissing the aggrieved arm; "it is only a pretty incarnate
which sets off the blue veins."

"Nay, my lord, now it is you are silly," answered the dame; "but I am
glad I can make you speak and laugh on any terms this morning. I am
sure, if I did insist on following you into the forest, it was all for
the sake of diverting you. I am better company than your page, I
trow.--And now, tell me, these pretty things with horns, be they not
deer?" "Even such they be, Nelly," answered her neglectful attendant.

"And what can the great folk do with so many of them, forsooth?"

"They send them to the city, Nell, where wise men make venison pasties
of their flesh, and wear their horns for trophies," answered Lord
Dalgarno, whom our reader has already recognised.

"Nay, now you laugh at me, my lord," answered his companion; "but I
know all about venison, whatever you may think. I always tasted it
once a year when we dined with Mr. Deputy," she continued, sadly, as a
sense of her degradation stole across a mind bewildered with vanity
and folly, "though he would not speak to me now, if we met together in
the narrowest lane in the Ward!"

"I warrant he would not," said Lord Dalgarno, "because thou, Nell,
wouldst dash him with a single look; for I trust thou hast more spirit
than to throw away words on such a fellow as he?"

"Who, I!" said Dame Nelly. "Nay, I scorn the proud princox too much
for that. Do you know, he made all the folk in the Ward stand cap in
hand to him, my poor old John Christie and all?" Here her recollection
began to overflow at her eyes.

"A plague on your whimpering," said Dalgarno, somewhat harshly,--"Nay,
never look pale for the matter, Nell. I am not angry with you, you
simple fool. But what would you have me think, when you are eternally
looking back upon your dungeon yonder by the river, which smelt of
pitch and old cheese worse than a Welshman does of onions, and all
this when I am taking you down to a castle as fine as is in Fairy
Land!"

"Shall we be there to-night, my lord?" said Nelly, drying her tears.

"To-night, Nelly?--no, nor this night fortnight."

"Now, the Lord be with us, and keep us!--But shall we not go by sea,
my lord?--I thought everybody came from Scotland by sea. I am sure
Lord Glenvarloch and Richie Moniplies came up by sea."

"There is a wide difference between coming up and going down, Nelly,"
answered Lord Dalgarno.

"And so there is, for certain," said his simple companion. "But yet I
think I heard people speaking of going down to Scotland by sea, as
well as coming up. Are you well avised of the way?--Do you think it
possible we can go by land, my sweet lord?"

"It is but trying, my sweet lady," said Lord Dalgarno. "Men say
England and Scotland are in the same island, so one would hope there
may be some road betwixt them by land."

"I shall never be able to ride so far," said the lady.

"We will have your saddle stuffed softer," said the lord. "I tell you
that you shall mew your city slough, and change from the caterpillar
of a paltry lane into the butterfly of a prince's garden. You shall
have as many tires as there are hours in the day--as many handmaidens
as there are days in the week--as many menials as there are weeks in
the year--and you shall ride a hunting and hawking with a lord,
instead of waiting upon an old ship-chandler, who could do nothing but
hawk and spit"

"Ay, but will you make me your lady?" said Dame Nelly.

"Ay, surely--what else?" replied the lord--"My lady-love."

"Ay, but I mean your lady-wife," said Nelly.

"Truly, Nell, in that I cannot promise to oblige you. A lady-wife,"
continued Dalgarno, "is a very different thing from a lady-love."

"I heard from Mrs. Suddlechop, whom you lodged me with since I left
poor old John Christie, that Lord Glenvarloch is to marry David Ramsay
the clockmaker's daughter?"

"There is much betwixt the cup and the lip, Nelly. I wear something
about me may break the bans of that hopeful alliance, before the day
is much older," answered Lord Dalgarno.

"Well, but my father was as good a man as old Davy Ramsay, and as well
to pass in the world, my lord; and, therefore, why should you not
marry me? You have done me harm enough, I trow--wherefore should you
not do me this justice?"

"For two good reasons, Nelly. Fate put a husband on you, and the king
passed a wife upon me," answered Lord Dalgarno.

"Ay, my lord," said Nelly, "but they remain in England, and we go to
Scotland."

"Thy argument is better than thou art aware of," said Lord Dalgarno.
"I have heard Scottish lawyers say the matrimonial tie may be
unclasped in our happy country by the gentle hand of the ordinary
course of law, whereas in England it can only be burst by an act of
Parliament. Well, Nelly, we will look into that matter; and whether we
get married again or no, we will at least do our best to get
unmarried."

"Shall we indeed, my honey-sweet lord? and then I will think less
about John Christie, for he will marry again, I warrant you, for he is
well to pass; and I would be glad to think he had somebody to take
care of him, as I used to do, poor loving old man! He was a kind man,
though he was a score of years older than I; and I hope and pray he
will never let a young lord cross his honest threshold again!"

Here the dame was once more much inclined to give way to a passion of
tears; but Lord Dalgarno conjured down the emotion, by saying with
some asperity--"I am weary of these April passions, my pretty
mistress, and I think you will do well to preserve your tears for some
more pressing occasion. Who knows what turn of fortune may in a few
minutes call for more of them than you can render?"

"Goodness, my lord! what mean you by such expressions? John Christie
(the kind heart!) used to keep no secrets from me, and I hope your
lordship will not hide your counsel from me?"

"Sit down beside me on this bank," said the nobleman; "I am bound to
remain here for a short space, and if you can be but silent, I should
like to spend a part of it in considering how far I can, on the
present occasion, follow the respectable example which you recommend
to me."

The place at which he stopped was at that time little more than a
mound, partly surrounded by a ditch, from which it derived the name of
Camlet Moat. A few hewn stones there were, which had escaped the fate
of many others that had been used in building different lodges in the
forest for the royal keepers. These vestiges, just sufficient to show
that "herein former times the hand of man had been," marked the ruins
of the abode of a once illustrious but long-forgotten family, the
Mandevilles, Earls of Essex, to whom Enfield Chase and the extensive
domains adjacent had belonged in elder days. A wild woodland prospect
led the eye at various points through broad and seemingly interminable
alleys, which, meeting at this point as at a common centre, diverged
from each other as they receded, and had, therefore, been selected by
Lord Dalgarno as the rendezvous for the combat, which, through the
medium of Richie Moniplies, he had offered to his injured friend, Lord
Glenvarloch.

"He will surely come?" he said to himself; "cowardice was not wont to
be his fault--at least he was bold enough in the Park.--Perhaps yonder
churl may not have carried my message? But no--he is a sturdy knave--
one of those would prize their master's honour above their life.--Look
to the palfrey, Lutin, and see thou let him not loose, and cast thy
falcon glance down every avenue to mark if any one comes.--Buckingham
has undergone my challenge, but the proud minion pleads the king's
paltry commands for refusing to answer me. If I can baffle this
Glenvarloch, or slay him--If I can spoil him of his honour or his
life, I shall go down to Scotland with credit sufficient to gild over
past mischances. I know my dear countrymen--they never quarrel with
any one who brings them home either gold or martial glory, much more
if he has both gold and laurels."

As he thus reflected, and called to mind the disgrace which he had
suffered, as well as the causes he imagined for hating Lord
Glenvarloch, his countenance altered under the influence of his
contending emotions, to the terror of Nelly, who, sitting unnoticed at
his feet, and looking anxiously in his face, beheld the cheek kindle,
the mouth become compressed, the eye dilated, and the whole
countenance express the desperate and deadly resolution of one who
awaits an instant and decisive encounter with a mortal enemy. The
loneliness of the place, the scenery so different from that to which
alone she had been accustomed, the dark and sombre air which crept so
suddenly over the countenance of her seducer, his command imposing
silence upon her, and the apparent strangeness of his conduct in
idling away so much time without any obvious cause, when a journey of
such length lay before them, brought strange thoughts into her weak
brain. She had read of women, seduced from their matrimonial duties by
sorcerers allied to the hellish powers, nay, by the Father of Evil
himself, who, after conveying his victim into some desert remote from
human kind, exchanged the pleasing shape in which he gained her
affections, for all his natural horrors. She chased this wild idea
away as it crowded itself upon her weak and bewildered imagination;
yet she might have lived to see it realised allegorically, if not
literally, but for the accident which presently followed.

The page, whose eyes were remarkably acute, at length called out to
his master, pointing with his finger at the same time down one of the
alleys, that horsemen were advancing in that direction. Lord Dalgarno
started up, and shading his eyes with his hand, gazed eagerly down the
alley; when, at the same instant, he received a shot, which, grazing
his hand, passed right through his brain, and laid him a lifeless
corpse at the feet, or rather across the lap, of the unfortunate
victim of his profligacy. The countenance, whose varied expression she
had been watching for the last five minutes, was convulsed for an
instant, and then stiffened into rigidity for ever. Three ruffians
rushed from the brake from which the shot had been fired, ere the
smoke was dispersed. One, with many imprecations seized on the page;
another on the female, upon whose cries he strove by the most violent
threats to impose silence; whilst the third began to undo the burden
from the page's horse. But an instant rescue prevented their availing
themselves of the advantage they had obtained.

It may easily be supposed that Richie Moniplies, having secured the
assistance of the two Templars, ready enough to join in any thing
which promised a fray, with Jin Vin to act as their guide, had set
off, gallantly mounted and well armed, under the belief that they
would reach Camlet Moat before the robbers, and apprehend them in the
fact. They had not calculated that, according to the custom of robbers
in other countries, but contrary to that of the English highwayman of
those days, they meant to ensure robbery by previous murder. An
accident also happened to delay them a little while on the road. In
riding through one of the glades of the forest, they found a man
dismounted and sitting under a tree, groaning with such bitterness of
spirit, that Lowestoffe could not forbear asking if he was hurt. In
answer, he said he was an unhappy man in pursuit of his wife, who had
been carried off by a villain; and as he raised his countenance, the
eyes of Richie, to his great astonishment, encountered the visage of
John Christie.

"For the Almighty's sake, help me, Master Moniplies!" he said; "I have
learned my wife is but a short mile before, with that black villain
Lord Dalgarno."

"Have him forward by all means," said Lowestoffe; "a second Orpheus
seeking his Eurydice!--Have him forward--we will save Lord Dalgarno's
purse, and ease him of his mistress--Have him with us, were it but for
the variety of the adventure. I owe his lordship a grudge for rooking
me. We have ten minutes good."

But it is dangerous to calculate closely in matters of life and death.
In all probability the minute or two which was lost in mounting John
Christie behind one of their party, might have saved Lord Dalgarno
from his fate. Thus his criminal amour became the indirect cause of
his losing his life; and thus "our pleasant vices are made the whips
to scourge us."

The riders arrived on the field at full gallop the moment after the
shot was fired; and Richie, who had his own reasons for attaching
himself to Colepepper, who was bustling to untie the portmanteau from
the page's saddle, pushed against him with such violence as to
overthrow him, his own horse at the same time stumbling and
dismounting his rider, who was none of the first equestrians. The
undaunted Richie immediately arose, however, and grappled with the
ruffian with such good-will, that, though a strong fellow, and though
a coward now rendered desperate, Moniplies got him under, wrenched a
long knife from his hand, dealt him a desperate stab with his own
weapon, and leaped on his feet; and, as the wounded man struggled to
follow his example, he struck him upon the head with the butt-end of a
musketoon, which last blow proved fatal.

"Bravo, Richie!" cried Lowestoffe, who had himself engaged at sword-
point with one of the ruffians, and soon put him to flight,--"Bravo!
why, man, there lies Sin, struck down like an ox, and Iniquity's
throat cut like a calf."

"I know not why you should upbraid me with my upbringing, Master
Lowestoffe," answered Richie, with great composure; "but I can tell
you, the shambles is not a bad place for training one to this work."

The other Templar now shouted loudly to them,--"If ye be men, come
hither--here lies Lord Dalgarno, murdered!"

Lowestoffe and Richie ran to the spot, and the page took the
opportunity, finding himself now neglected on all hands, to ride off
in a different direction; and neither he, nor the considerable sum
with which his horse was burdened, were ever heard of from that
moment.

The third ruffian had not waited the attack of the Templar and Jin
Vin, the latter of whom had put down old Christie from behind him that
he might ride the lighter; and the whole five now stood gazing with
horror on the bloody corpse of the young nobleman, and the wild sorrow
of the female, who tore her hair and shrieked in the most disconsolate
manner, until her agony was at once checked, or rather received a new
direction, by the sudden and unexpected appearance of her husband,
who, fixing on her a cold and severe look, said, in a tone suited to
his manner--"Ay, woman! thou takest on sadly for the loss of thy
paramour."--Then, looking on the bloody corpse of him from whom he had
received so deep an injury, he repeated the solemn words of
Scripture,--"'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, and I will repay
it.'--I, whom thou hast injured, will be first to render thee the
decent offices due to the dead."

So saying, he covered the dead body with his cloak, and then looking
on it for a moment, seemed to reflect on what he had next to perform.
As the eye of the injured man slowly passed from the body of the
seducer to the partner and victim of his crime, who had sunk down to
his feet, which she clasped without venturing to look up, his
features, naturally coarse and saturnine, assumed a dignity of
expression which overawed the young Templars, and repulsed the
officious forwardness of Richie Moniplies, who was at first eager to
have thrust in his advice and opinion. "Kneel not to me, woman," he
said, "but kneel to the God thou hast offended, more than thou couldst
offend such another worm as thyself. How often have I told thee, when
thou wert at the gayest and the lightest, that pride goeth before
destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall? Vanity brought folly,
and folly brought sin, and sin hath brought death, his original
companion. Thou must needs leave duty, and decency, and domestic love,
to revel it gaily with the wild and with the wicked; and there thou
liest like a crushed worm, writhing beside the lifeless body of thy
paramour. Thou hast done me much wrong--dishonoured me among friends--
driven credit from my house, and peace from my fireside--But thou wert
my first and only love, and I will not see thee an utter castaway, if
it lies with me to prevent it.--Gentlemen, I render ye such thanks as
a broken-hearted man can give.--Richard, commend me to your honourable
master. I added gall to the bitterness of his affliction, but I was
deluded.--Rise up, woman, and follow me."

He raised her up by the arm, while, with streaming eyes, and bitter
sobs, she endeavoured to express her penitence. She kept her hands
spread over her face, yet suffered him to lead her away; and it was
only as they turned around a brake which concealed the scene they had
left, that she turned back, and casting one wild and hurried glance
towards the corpse of Dalgarno, uttered a shriek, and clinging to her
husband's arm, exclaimed wildly,--"Save me--save me! They have
murdered him!"

Lowestoffe was much moved by what he had witnessed; but he was
ashamed, as a town-gallant, of his own unfashionable emotion, and did
a force to his feelings when he exclaimed,--"Ay, let them go--the
kind-hearted, believing, forgiving husband--the liberal, accommodating
spouse. O what a generous creature is your true London husband!--Horns
hath he, but, tame as a fatted ox, he goreth not. I should like to see
her when she hath exchanged her mask and riding-beaver for her peaked
hat and muffler. We will visit them at Paul's Wharf, coz--it will be a
convenient acquaintance."

"You had better think of catching the gipsy thief, Lutin," said Richie
Moniplies; "for, by my faith, he is off with his master's baggage and
the siller."

A keeper, with his assistants, and several other persons, had now come
to the spot, and made hue and cry after Lutin, but in vain. To their
custody the Templars surrendered the dead bodies, and after going
through some formal investigation, they returned, with Richard and
Vincent, to London, where they received great applause for their
gallantry.--Vincent's errors were easily expiated, in consideration of
his having been the means of breaking up this band of villains; and
there is some reason to think, that what would have diminished the
credit of the action in other instances, rather added to it in the
actual circumstances, namely, that they came too late to save Lord
Dalgarno.

George Heriot, who suspected how matters stood with Vincent, requested
and obtained permission from his master to send the poor young fellow
on an important piece of business to Paris. We are unable to trace his
fate farther, but believe it was prosperous, and that he entered into
an advantageous partnership with his fellow-apprentice, upon old Davy
Ramsay retiring from business, in consequence of his daughter's
marriage. That eminent antiquary, Dr. Dryasdust, is possessed of an
antique watch, with a silver dial-plate, the mainspring being a piece
of catgut instead of a chain, which bears the names of Vincent and
Tunstall, Memory-Monitors.

Master Lowestoffe failed not to vindicate his character as a man of
gaiety, by inquiring after John Christie and Dame Nelly; but greatly
to his surprise, (indeed to his loss, for he had wagered ten pieces
that he would domesticate himself in the family,) he found the good-
will, as it was called, of the shop, was sold, the stock auctioned,
and the late proprietor and his wife gone, no one knew whither. The
prevailing belief was, that they had emigrated to one of the new
settlements in America.

Lady Dalgarno received the news of her unworthy husband's death with a
variety of emotions, among which, horror that he should have been cut
off in the middle career of his profligacy, was the most prominent.
The incident greatly deepened her melancholy, and injured her health,
already shaken by previous circumstances. Repossessed of her own
fortune by her husband's death, she was anxious to do justice to Lord
Glenvarloch, by treating for the recovery of the mortgage.

But the scrivener, having taken fright at the late events, had left
the city and absconded, so that it was impossible to discover into
whose hands the papers had now passed. Richard Moniplies was silent,
for his own reasons; the Templars, who had witnessed the transaction,
kept the secret at his request, and it was universally believed that
the scrivener had carried off the writings along with him. We may here
observe, that fears similar to those of Skurliewhitter freed London
for ever from the presence of Dame Suddlechop, who ended her career in
the _Rasp-haus_, (viz. Bridewell,) of Amsterdam.

The stout old Lord Huntinglen, with a haughty carriage and unmoistened
eye, accompanied the funeral procession of his only son to its last
abode; and perhaps the single tear which fell at length upon the
coffin, was given less to the fate of the individual, than to the
extinction of the last male of his ancient race.




CHAPTER XXXVII


_Jacques_. There is, suie, another flood toward, and these couples are
coming to the ark!--Here comes a pair of very strange beasts.--_As You
Like It_.

The fashion of such narratives as the present, changes like other
earthly things. Time was that the tale-teller was obliged to wind up
his story by a circumstantial description of the wedding, bedding, and
throwing the stocking, as the grand catastrophe to which, through so
many circumstances of doubt and difficulty, he had at length happily
conducted his hero and heroine. Not a circumstance was then omitted,
from the manly ardour of the bridegroom, and the modest blushes of the
bride, to the parson's new surplice, and the silk tabinet mantua of
the bridesmaid. But such descriptions are now discarded, for the same
reason, I suppose, that public marriages are no longer fashionable,
and that, instead of calling together their friends to a feast and a
dance, the happy couple elope in a solitary post-chaise, as secretly
as if they meant to go to Gretna-Green, or to do worse. I am not
ungrateful for a change which saves an author the trouble of
attempting in vain to give a new colour to the commonplace description
of such matters; but, notwithstanding, I find myself forced upon it in
the present instance, as circumstances sometimes compel a stranger to
make use of an old road which has been for some time shut up. The
experienced reader may have already remarked, that the last chapter
was employed in sweeping out of the way all the unnecessary and less
interesting characters, that I might clear the floor for a blithe
bridal.

In truth, it would be unpardonable to pass over slightly what so
deeply interested our principal personage, King James. That learned
and good-humoured monarch made no great figure in the politics of
Europe; but then, to make amends, he was prodigiously busy, when he
could find a fair opportunity of intermeddling with the private
affairs of his loving subjects, and the approaching marriage of Lord
Glenvarloch was matter of great interest to him. He had been much
struck (that is, for him, who was not very accessible to such
emotions) with the beauty and embarrassment of the pretty Peg-a-
Ramsay, as he called her, when he first saw her, and he glorified
himself greatly on the acuteness which he had displayed in detecting
her disguise, and in carrying through the whole inquiry which took
place in consequence of it.

He laboured for several weeks, while the courtship was in progress,
with his own royal eyes, so as wellnigh to wear out, he declared, a
pair of her father's best barnacles, in searching through old books
and documents, for the purpose of establishing the bride's pretensions
to a noble, though remote descent, and thereby remove the only
objection which envy might conceive against the match. In his own
opinion, at least, he was eminently successful; for, when Sir Mungo
Malagrowther one day, in the presence-chamber, took upon him to grieve
bitterly for the bride's lack of pedigree, the monarch cut him short
with, "Ye may save your grief for your ain next occasions, Sir Mungo;
for, by our royal saul, we will uphauld her father, Davy Ramsay, to be
a gentleman of nine descents, whase great gudesire came of the auld
martial stock of the House of Dalwolsey, than whom better men never
did, and better never will, draw sword for king and country. Heard ye
never of Sir William Ramsay of Dalwolsey, man, of whom John Fordoun
saith,--'He was _bellicosissimus, nobilissimus?_'--His castle stands
to witness for itsell, not three miles from Dalkeith, man, and within
a mile of Bannockrig. Davy Ramsay came of that auld and honoured
stock, and I trust he hath not derogated from his ancestors by his
present craft. They all wrought wi' steel, man; only the auld knights
drilled holes wi' their swords in their enemies' corslets, and he saws
nicks in his brass wheels. And I hope it is as honourable to give eyes
to the blind as to slash them out of the head of those that see, and
to show us how to value our time as it passes, as to fling it away in
drinking, brawling, spear-splintering, and such-like unchristian
doings. And you maun understand, that Davy Ramsay is no mechanic, but
follows a liberal art, which approacheth almost to the act of creating
a living being, seeing it may be said of a watch, as Claudius saith of
the sphere of Archimedes, the Syracusan--

"Inclusus variis famulatur spiritus astris,
 Et vivum certis motibus urget opus.'"

"Your Majesty had best give auld Davy a coat-of-arms, as well as a
pedigree," said Sir Mungo.

"It's done, or ye bade, Sir Mungo," said the king; "and I trust we,
who are the fountain of all earthly honour, are free to spirit a few
drops of it on one so near our person, without offence to the Knight
of Castle Girnigo. We have already spoken with the learned men of the
Herald's College, and we propose to grant him an augmented coat-of-
arms, being his paternal coat, charged with the crown-wheel of a watch
in chief, for a difference; and we purpose to add Time and Eternity,
for supporters, as soon as the Garter King-at-Arms shall be able to
devise how Eternity is to be represented."

"I would make him twice as muckle as Time," [Footnote: Chaucer says,
there is nothing new but what it has been old. The reader has here the
original of an anecdote which has since been fathered on a Scottish
Chief of our own time.] said Archie Armstrong, the Court fool, who
chanced to be present when the king stated this dilemma. "Peace, man--
ye shall be whippet," said the king, in return for this hint; "and
you, my liege subjects of England, may weel take a hint from what we
have said, and not be in such a hurry to laugh at our Scottish
pedigrees, though they be somewhat long derived, and difficult to be
deduced. Ye see that a man of right gentle blood may, for a season,
lay by his gentry, and yet ken whare to find it, when he has occasion
for it. It would be as unseemly for a packman, or pedlar, as ye call a
travelling merchant, whilk is a trade to which our native subjects of
Scotland are specially addicted, to be blazing his genealogy in the
faces of those to whom he sells a bawbee's worth of ribbon, as it
would be to him to have a beaver on his head, and a rapier by his
side, when the pack was on his shoulders. Na, na--he hings his sword
on the cleek, lays his beaver on the shelf, puts his pedigree into his
pocket, and gangs as doucely and cannily about his peddling craft as
if his blood was nae better than ditch-water; but let our pedlar be
transformed, as I have kend it happen mair than ance, into a bein
thriving merchant, then ye shall have a transformation, my lords.

'In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas--'

Out he pulls his pedigree, on he buckles his sword, gives his beaver a
brush, and cocks it in the face of all creation. We mention these
things at the mair length, because we would have you all to know, that
it is not without due consideration of the circumstances of all
parties, that we design, in a small and private way, to honour with
our own royal presence the marriage of Lord Glenvarloch with Margaret
Ramsay, daughter and heiress of David Ramsay, our horologer, and a
cadet only thrice removed from the ancient house of Dalwolsey. We are
grieved we cannot have the presence of the noble Chief of that House
at the ceremony; but where there is honour to be won abroad the Lord
Dalwolsey is seldom to be found at home. _Sic fuit, est, et erit_.-
Jingling Geordie, as ye stand to the cost of the marriage feast, we
look for good cheer."

Heriot bowed, as in duty bound. In fact, the king, who was a great
politician about trifles, had manoeuvred greatly on this occasion, and
had contrived to get the Prince and Buckingham dispatched on an
expedition to Newmarket, in order that he might find an opportunity in
their absence of indulging himself in his own gossiping, _coshering_
habits, which were distasteful to Charles, whose temper inclined to
formality, and with which even the favourite, of late, had not thought
it worth while to seem to sympathise. When the levee was dismissed,
Sir Mungo Malagrowther seized upon the worthy citizen in the court-
yard of the Palace, and detained him, in spite of all his efforts, for
the purpose of subjecting him to the following scrutiny:--

"This is a sair job on you, Master George--the king must have had
little consideration--this will cost you a bonny penny, this wedding
dinner?"

"It will not break me, Sir Mungo," answered Heriot; "the king hath a
right to see the table which his bounty hath supplied for years, well
covered for a single day."

"Vera true, vera true--we'll have a' to pay, I doubt, less or mair--a
sort of penny-wedding it will prove, where all men contribute to the
young folk's maintenance, that they may not have just four bare legs
in a bed together. What do you propose to give, Master George?--we
begin with the city when money is in question." [Footnote: The penny-
wedding of the Scots, now disused even among the lowest ranks, was a
peculiar species of merry-making, at which, if the wedded pair were
popular, the guests who convened, contributed considerable sums under
pretence of paying for the bridal festivity, but in reality to set the
married folk afloat in the world.]

"Only a trifle, Sir Mungo--I give my god-daughter the marriage ring;
it is a curious jewel--I bought it in Italy; it belonged to Cosmo de
Medici. The bride will not need my help--she has an estate which
belonged to her maternal grandfather."

"The auld soap-boiler," said Sir Mungo; "it will need some of his suds
to scour the blot out of the Glenvarloch shield--I have heard that
estate was no great things."

"It is as good as some posts at Court, Sir Mungo, which are coveted by
persons of high quality," replied George Heriot.

"Court favour, said ye? Court favour, Master Heriot?" replied Sir
Mungo, choosing then to use his malady of misapprehension; "Moonshine
in water, poor thing, if that is all she is to be tochered with--I am
truly solicitous about them."

"I will let you into a secret," said the citizen, "which will relieve
your tender anxiety. The dowager Lady Dalgarno gives a competent
fortune to the bride, and settles the rest of her estate upon her
nephew the bridegroom."

"Ay, say ye sae?" said Sir Mungo, "just to show her regard to her
husband that is in the tomb--lucky that her nephew did not send him
there; it was a strange story that death of poor Lord Dalgarno--some
folk think the poor gentleman had much wrong. Little good comes of
marrying the daughter of the house you are at feud with; indeed, it
was less poor Dalgarno's fault, than theirs that forced the match on
him; but I am glad the young folk are to have something to live on,
come how it like, whether by charity or inheritance. But if the Lady
Dalgarno were to sell all she has, even to her very wylie-coat, she
canna gie them back the fair Castle of Glenvarloch--that is lost and
gane--lost and gane."

"It is but too true," said George Heriot; "we cannot discover what has
become of the villain Andrew Skurliewhitter, or what Lord Dalgarno has
done with the mortgage."

"Assigned it away to some one, that his wife might not get it after he
was gane; it would have disturbed him in his grave, to think
Glenvarloch should get that land back again," said Sir Mungo; "depend
on it, he will have ta'en sure measures to keep that noble lordship
out of her grips or her nevoy's either."

"Indeed it is but too probable, Sir Mungo," said Master Heriot; "but
as I am obliged to go and look after many things in consequence of
this ceremony, I must leave you to comfort yourself with the
reflection."

"The bride-day, you say, is to be on the thirtieth of the instant
month?" said Sir Mungo, holloing after the citizen; "I will be with
you in the hour of cause."

"The king invites the guests," said George Heriot, without turning
back.

"The base-born, ill-bred mechanic!" soliloquised Sir Mungo, "if it
were not the odd score of pounds he lent me last week, I would teach
him how to bear himself to a man of quality! But I will be at the
bridal banquet in spite of him."

Sir Mungo contrived to get invited, or commanded, to attend on the
bridal accordingly, at which there were but few persons present; for
James, on such occasions, preferred a snug privacy, which gave him
liberty to lay aside the encumbrance, as he felt it to be, of his
regal dignity. The company was very small, and indeed there were at
least two persons absent whose presence might have been expected. The
first of these was the Lady Dalgarno, the state of whose health, as
well as the recent death of her husband, precluded her attendance on
the ceremony. The other absentee was Richie Moniplies, whose conduct
for some time past had been extremely mysterious. Regulating his
attendance on Lord Glenvarloch entirely according to his own will and
pleasure, he had, ever since the rencounter in Enfield Chase, appeared
regularly at his bedside in the morning, to assist him to dress, and
at his wardrobe in the evening. The rest of the day he disposed of at
his own pleasure, without control from his lord, who had now a
complete establishment of attendants. Yet he was somewhat curious to
know how the fellow disposed of so much of his time; but on this
subject Richie showed no desire to be communicative.

On the morning of the bridal-day, Richie was particularly attentive in
doing all a valet-de-chambre could, so as to set off to advantage the
very handsome figure of his master; and when he had arranged his dress
to the utmost exactness, and put to his long curled locks what he
called "the finishing touch of the redding-kaim," he gravely kneeled
down, kissed his hand, and bade him farewell, saying that he humbly
craved leave to discharge himself of his lordship's service.

"Why, what humour is this?" said Lord Glenvarloch; "if you mean to
discharge yourself of my service, Richie, I suppose you intend to
enter my wife's?"

"I wish her good ladyship that shall soon be, and your good lordship,
the blessings of as good a servant as myself, in heaven's good time,"
said Richie; "but fate hath so ordained it, that I can henceforth only
be your servant in the way of friendly courtesy."

"Well, Richie," said the young lord, "if you are tired of service, we
will seek some better provision for you; but you will wait on me to
the church, and partake of the bridal dinner?"

"Under favour, my lord," answered Richie; "I must remind you of our
covenant, having presently some pressing business of mine own, whilk
will detain me during the ceremony; but I will not fail to prie Master
George's good cheer, in respect he has made very costly fare, whilk it
would be unthankful not to partake of."

"Do as you list," answered Lord Glenvarloch; and having bestowed a
passing thought on the whimsical and pragmatical disposition of his
follower, he dismissed the subject for others better suited to the
day.

The reader must fancy the scattered flowers which strewed the path of
the happy couple to church--the loud music which accompanied the
procession--the marriage service performed by a bishop--the king, who
met them at Saint Paul's, giving away the bride,--to the great relief
of her father, who had thus time, during the ceremony, to calculate
the just quotient to be laid on the pinion of report in a timepiece
which he was then putting together.

When the ceremony was finished, the company were transported in the
royal carriages to George Heriot's, where a splendid collation was
provided for the marriage-guests in the Foljambe apartments. The king
no sooner found himself in this snug retreat, than, casting from him
his sword and belt with such haste as if they burnt his fingers, and
flinging his plumed hat on the table, as who should say, Lie there,
authority! he swallowed a hearty cup of wine to the happiness of the
married couple, and began to amble about the room, mumping, laughing,
and cracking jests, neither the wittiest nor the most delicate, but
accompanied and applauded by shouts of his own mirth, in order to
encourage that of the company. Whilst his Majesty was in the midst of
this gay humour, and a call to the banquet was anxiously expected, a
servant whispered Master Heriot forth of the apartment. When he re-
entered, he walked up to the king, and, in his turn whispered
something, at which James started.

"He is not wanting his siller?" said the king, shortly and sharply.

"By no means, my liege," answered Heriot. "It is a subject he states
himself as quite indifferent about, so long as it can pleasure your
Majesty."

"Body of us, man!" said the king, "it is the speech of a true man and
a loving subject, and we will grace him accordingly--what though he be
but a carle--a twopenny cat may look at a king. Swith, man! have him--
_pundite fores_.--Moniplies?--They should have called the chield
Monypennies, though I sall warrant you English think we have not such
a name in Scotland."

"It is an ancient and honourable stock, the Monypennies," said Sir
Mungo Malagrowther; "the only loss is, there are sae few of the name."

"The family seems to increase among your countrymen, Sir Mungo," said
Master Lowestoffe, whom Lord Glenvarloch had invited to be present,
"since his Majesty's happy accession brought so many of you here."

"Right, sir--right," said Sir Mungo, nodding and looking at George
Heriot; "there have some of ourselves been the better of that great
blessing to the English nation."

As he spoke, the door flew open, and in entered, to the astonishment
of Lord Glenvarloch, his late serving-man Richie Moniplies, now
sumptuously, nay, gorgeously, attired in a superb brocaded suit, and
leading in his hand the tall, thin, withered, somewhat distorted form
of Martha Trapbois, arrayed in a complete dress of black velvet, which
suited so strangely with the pallid and severe melancholy of her
countenance, that the king himself exclaimed, in some perturbation,
"What the deil has the fallow brought us here? Body of our regal
selves! it is a corpse that has run off with the mort-cloth!"

"May I sifflicate your Majesty to be gracious unto her?" said Richie;
"being that she is, in respect of this morning's wark, my ain wedded
wife, Mrs. Martha Moniplies by name."

"Saul of our body, man! but she looks wondrous grim," answered King
James. "Art thou sure she has not been in her time maid of honour to
Queen Mary, our kinswoman, of redhot memory?"

"I am sure, an it like your Majesty, that she has brought me fifty
thousand pounds of good siller, and better; and that has enabled me to
pleasure your Majesty, and other folk."

"Ye need have said naething about that, man," said the king; "we ken
our obligations in that sma' matter, and we are glad this rudas spouse
of thine hath bestowed her treasure on ane wha kens to put it to the
profit of his king and country.--But how the deil did ye come by her,
man?"

"In the auld Scottish fashion, my liege. She is the captive of my bow
and my spear," answered Moniplies. "There was a convention that she
should wed me when I avenged her father's death--so I slew, and took
possession."

"It is the daughter of Old Trapbois, who has been missed so long,"
said Lowestoffe.--"Where the devil could you mew her up so closely,
friend Richie?"

"Master Richard, if it be your will," answered Richie; "or Master
Richard Moniplies, if you like it better. For mewing of her up, I
found her a shelter, in all honour and safety, under the roof of an
honest countryman of my own--and for secrecy, it was a point of
prudence, when wantons like you were abroad, Master Lowestoffe."

There was a laugh at Richie's magnanimous reply, on the part of every
one but his bride, who made to him a signal of impatience, and said,
with her usual brevity and sternness,--"Peace--peace, I pray you,
peace. Let us do that which we came for." So saying, she took out a
bundle of parchments, and delivering them to Lord Glenvarloch, she
said aloud,--"I take this royal presence, and all here, to witness,
that I restore the ransomed lordship of Glenvarloch to the right
owner, as free as ever it was held by any of his ancestors."

"I witnessed the redemption of the mortgage," said Lowestoffe; "but I
little dreamt by whom it had been redeemed."

"No need ye should," said Richie; "there would have been small wisdom
in crying roast-meat."

"Peace," said his bride, "once more.--This paper," she continued,
delivering another to Lord Glenvarloch, "is also your property--take
it, but spare me the question how it came into my custody."

The king had bustled forward beside Lord Glenvarloch, and fixing an
eager eye on the writing, exclaimed--"Body of ourselves, it is our
royal sign-manual for the money which was so long out of sight!--How
came you by it, Mistress Bride?"

"It is a secret," said Martha, dryly.

"A secret which my tongue shall never utter," said Richie,
resolutely,--"unless the king commands me on my allegiance."

"I do--I do command you," said James, trembling and stammering with
the impatient curiosity of a gossip; while Sir Mungo, with more
malicious anxiety to get at the bottom of the mystery, stooped his
long thin form forward like a bent fishing-rod, raised his thin grey
locks from his ear, and curved his hand behind it to collect every
vibration of the expected intelligence. Martha in the meantime frowned
most ominously on Richie, who went on undauntedly to inform the king,
"that his deceased father-in-law, a good careful man in the main, had
a' touch of worldly wisdom about him, that at times marred the
uprightness of his walk; he liked to dabble among his neighbour's
gear, and some of it would at times stick to his fingers in the
handling."

"For shame, man, for shame!" said Martha; "since the infamy of the
deed must be told, be it at least briefly.--Yes, my lord," she added,
addressing Glenvarloch, "the piece of gold was not the sole bait which
brought the miserable old man to your chamber that dreadful night--his
object, and he accomplished it, was to purloin this paper. The
wretched scrivener was with him that morning, and, I doubt not, urged
the doting old man to this villainy, to offer another bar to the
ransom of your estate. If there was a yet more powerful agent at the
bottom of this conspiracy, God forgive it to him at this moment, for
he is now where the crime must be answered!"

"Amen!" said Lord Glenvarloch, and it was echoed by all present.

"For my father," continued she, with her stern features twitched by an
involuntary and convulsive movement, "his guilt and folly cost him his
life; and my belief is constant, that the wretch, who counselled him
that morning to purloin the paper, left open the window for the
entrance of the murderers."

Every body was silent for an instant; the king was first to speak,
commanding search instantly to be made for the guilty scrivener. "_I,
lictor,_" he concluded, "_colliga manus--caput obnubito-infelici
suspendite arbori_."

Lowestoffe answered with due respect, that the scrivener had absconded
at the time of Lord Dalgarno's murder, and had not been heard of
since.

"Let him be sought for," said the king. "And now let us change the
discourse--these stories make one's very blood grew, and are
altogether unfit for bridal festivity. Hymen, O Hymenee!" added he,
snapping his fingers, "Lord Glenvarloch, what say you to Mistress
Moniplies, this bonny bride, that has brought you back your father's
estate on your bridal day?"

"Let him say nothing, my liege," said Martha; "that will best suit his
feelings and mine."

"There is redemption-money, at the least, to be repaid," said Lord
Glenvarloch; "in that I cannot remain debtor."

"We will speak of it hereafter," said Martha; "_my_ debtor _you_
cannot be." And she shut her mouth as if determined to say nothing
more on the subject.

Sir Mungo, however, resolved not to part with the topic, and availing
himself of the freedom of the moment, said to Richie--"A queer story
that of your father-in-law, honest man; methinks your bride thanked
you little for ripping it up."

"I make it a rule, Sir Mungo," replied Richie, "always to speak any
evil I know about my family myself, having observed, that if I do not,
it is sure to be told by ither folks."

"But, Richie," said Sir Mungo, "it seems to me that this bride of
yours is like to be master and mair in the conjugal state."

"If she abides by words, Sir Mungo," answered Richie, "I thank heaven
I can be as deaf as any one; and if she comes to dunts, I have twa
hands to paik her with."

"Weel said, Richie, again," said the king; "you have gotten it on
baith haffits, Sir Mungo.--Troth, Mistress Bride, for a fule, your
gudeman has a pretty turn of wit."

"There are fools, sire," replied she, "who have wit, and fools who
have courage--aye, and fools who have learning, and are great fools
notwithstanding.--I chose this man because he was my protector when I
was desolate, and neither for his wit nor his wisdom. He is truly
honest, and has a heart and hand that make amends for some folly.
Since I was condemned to seek a protector through the world, which is
to me a wilderness, I may thank God that I have come by no worse."

"And that is sae sensibly said," replied the king, "that, by my saul,
I'll try whether I canna make him better. Kneel down, Richie--somebody
lend me a rapier--yours, Mr. Langstaff, (that's a brave name for a
lawyer,)--ye need not flash it out that gate, Templar fashion, as if
ye were about to pink a bailiff!"

He took the drawn sword, and with averted eyes, for it was a sight he
loved not to look on, endeavoured to lay it on Richie's shoulder, but
nearly stuck it into his eye. Richie, starting back, attempted to
rise, but was held down by Lowestoffe, while Sir Mungo, guiding the
royal weapon, the honour-bestowing blow was given and received:
"_Surge, carnifex_--Rise up, Sir Richard Moniplies, of Castle-Collop!-
-And, my lords and lieges, let us all to our dinner, for the cock-a-
leekie is cooling."




NOTES