Books: Robert Falconer

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'That ane's no to be droont or brunt aither,' said Lumley, as he
disappeared.

'He'll no be hang't for closin' your mou', Mr. Lumley,' said the
shoemaker.

Thereupon Lumley turned and followed Robert into the inn.

Robert had delivered his message to Miss Napier, who sat in an
arm-chair by the fire, in a little comfortable parlour, held sacred
by all about the house. She was paralytic, and unable to attend to
her guests further than by giving orders when anything especial was
referred to her decision. She was an old lady--nearly as old as
Mrs. Falconer--and wore glasses, but they could not conceal the
kindness of her kindly eyes. Probably from giving less heed to a
systematic theology, she had nothing of that sternness which first
struck a stranger on seeing Robert's grandmother. But then she did
not know what it was to be contradicted; and if she had been
married, and had had sons, perhaps a sternness not dissimilar might
have shown itself in her nature.

'Noo ye maunna gang awa' till ye get something,' she said, after
taking the receipt in request from a drawer within her reach, and
laying it upon the table. But ere she could ring the bell which
stood by her side, one of her servants came in.

'Please, mem,' she said, 'Miss Letty and Miss Lizzy's seein' efter
the bonny leddy; and sae I maun come to you.'

'Is she a' that bonny, Meg?' asked her mistress.

'Na, na, she's nae sae fearsome bonny; but Miss Letty's unco ta'en
wi' her, ye ken. An' we a' say as Miss Letty says i' this hoose.
But that's no the pint. Mr. Lumley's here, seekin' a gill: is he
to hae't?'

'Has he had eneuch already, do ye think, Meg?'

'I dinna ken aboot eneuch, mem; that's ill to mizzer; but I dinna
think he's had ower muckle.'

'Weel, lat him tak' it. But dinna lat him sit doon.'

'Verra weel, mem,' said Meg, and departed.

'What gars Mr. Lumley say 'at my gran'father was the blin' piper o'
Portcloddie? Can ye tell me, Miss Naper?' asked Robert.

'Whan said he that, Robert?'

'Jist as I cam in.'

Miss Napier rang the bell. Another maid appeared.

'Sen' Meg here direckly.'

Meg came, her eyes full of interrogation.

'Dinna gie Lumley a drap. Set him up to insult a young gentleman at
my door-cheek! He s' no hae a drap here the nicht. He 's had ower
muckle, Meg, already, an' ye oucht to hae seen that.'

''Deed, mem, he 's had mair than ower muckle, than; for there's
anither gill ower the thrapple o' 'm. I div my best, mem, but,
never tastin' mysel', I canna aye tell hoo muckle 's i' the wame o'
a' body 'at comes in.'

'Ye're no fit for the place, Meg; that's a fac'.'

At this charge Meg took no offence, for she had been in the place
for twenty years. And both mistress and maid laughed the moment
they parted company.

'Wha's this 'at's come the nicht, Miss Naper, 'at they're sae ta'en
wi'?' asked Robert.

'Atweel, I dinna ken yet. She's ower bonnie by a' accoonts to be
gaein' about her lane (alone). It's a mercy the baron's no at hame.
I wad hae to lock her up wi' the forks and spunes.'

'What for that?' asked Robert.

But Miss Napier vouchsafed no further explanation. She stuffed his
pockets with sweet biscuits instead, dismissed him in haste, and
rang the bell.

'Meg, whaur hae they putten the stranger-leddy?'

'She's no gaein' to bide at our hoose, mem.'

'What say ye, lass? She's never gaein' ower to Lucky Happit's, is
she?'

'Ow na, mem. She's a leddy, ilka inch o' her. But she's some sib
(relation) to the auld captain, and she's gaein' doon the street as
sune's Caumill's ready to tak her bit boxes i' the barrow. But I
doobt there'll be maist three barrowfu's o' them.'

'Atweel. Ye can gang.'

CHAPTER IV.

SHARGAR.

Robert went out into the thin drift, and again crossing the wide
desolate-looking square, turned down an entry leading to a kind of
court, which had once been inhabited by a well-to-do class of the
townspeople, but had now fallen in estimation. Upon a stone at the
door of what seemed an outhouse he discovered the object of his
search.

'What are ye sittin' there for, Shargar?'

Shargar is a word of Gaelic origin, applied, with some sense of the
ridiculous, to a thin, wasted, dried-up creature. In the present
case it was the nickname by which the boy was known at school; and,
indeed, where he was known at all.

'What are ye sittin' there for, Shargar? Did naebody offer to tak
ye in?'

'Na, nane o' them. I think they maun be a' i' their beds. I'm most
dreidfu' cauld.'

The fact was, that Shargar's character, whether by imputation from
his mother, or derived from his own actions, was none of the best.
The consequence was, that, although scarcely one of the neighbours
would have allowed him to sit there all night, each was willing to
wait yet a while, in the hope that somebody else's humanity would
give in first, and save her from the necessity of offering him a
seat by the fireside, and a share of the oatmeal porridge which
probably would be scanty enough for her own household. For it must
be borne in mind that all the houses in the place were occupied by
poor people, with whom the one virtue, Charity, was, in a measure,
at home, and amidst many sins, cardinal and other, managed to live
in even some degree of comfort.

'Get up, than, Shargar, ye lazy beggar! Or are ye frozen to the
door-stane? I s' awa' for a kettle o' bilin' water to lowse ye.'

'Na, na, Bob. I'm no stucken. I'm only some stiff wi' the cauld;
for wow, but I am cauld!' said Shargar, rising with difficulty. 'Gie
's a haud o' yer han', Bob.'

Robert gave him his hand, and Shargar was straightway upon his feet.

'Come awa' noo, as fest and as quaiet 's ye can.'

'What are ye gaein' to du wi' me, Bob?'

'What's that to you, Shargar?'

'Naything. Only I wad like to ken.'

'Hae patience, and ye will ken. Only mind ye do as I tell ye, and
dinna speik a word.'

Shargar followed in silence.

On the way Robert remembered that Miss Napier had not, after all,
given him the receipt for which his grandmother had sent him. So he
returned to The Boar's Head, and, while he went in, left Shargar in
the archway, to shiver, and try in vain to warm his hands by the
alternate plans of slapping them on the opposite arms, and hiding
them under them.

When Robert came out, he saw a man talking to him under the lamp.
The moment his eyes fell upon the two, he was struck by a
resemblance between them. Shargar was right under the lamp, the man
to the side of it, so that Shargar was shadowed by its frame, and
the man was in its full light. The latter turned away, and passing
Robert, went into the inn.

'Wha's that?' asked Robert.

'I dinna ken,' answered Shargar. 'He spak to me or ever I kent he
was there, and garred my hert gie sic a loup 'at it maist fell into
my breeks.'

'And what said he to ye?'

'He said was the deevil at my lug, that I did naething but caw my
han's to bits upo' my shoothers.'

'And what said ye to that?'

'I said I wissed he was, for he wad aiblins hae some spare heat
aboot him, an' I hadna freely (quite) eneuch.'

'Weel dune, Shargar! What said he to that?'

'He leuch, and speirt gin I wad list, and gae me a shillin'.'

'Ye didna tak it, Shargar?' asked Robert in some alarm.

'Ay did I. Catch me no taking a shillin'!'

'But they'll haud ye till 't.'

'Na, na. I'm ower shochlin' (in-kneed) for a sodger. But that man
was nae sodger.'

'And what mair said he?'

'He speirt what I wad do wi' the shillin'.'

'And what said ye?'

'Ow! syne ye cam' oot, and he gaed awa'.'

'And ye dinna ken wha it was?' repeated Robert.

'It was some like my brither, Lord Sandy; but I dinna ken,' said
Shargar.

By this time they had arrived at Yule the baker's shop.

'Bide ye here,' said Robert, who happened to possess a few coppers,
'till I gang into Eel's.'

Shargar stood again and shivered at the door, till Robert came out
with a penny loaf in one hand, and a twopenny loaf in the other.

'Gie's a bit, Bob,' said Shargar. 'I'm as hungry as I am cauld.'

'Bide ye still,' returned Robert. 'There's a time for a' thing, and
your time 's no come to forgather wi' this loaf yet. Does na it
smell fine? It's new frae the bakehoose no ten minutes ago. I ken
by the fin' (feel) o' 't.'

'Lat me fin' 't,' said Shargar, stretching out one hand, and feeling
his shilling with the other.

'Na. Yer han's canna be clean. And fowk suld aye eat clean, whether
they gang clean or no.'

'I'll awa' in an' buy ane oot o' my ain shillin',' said Shargar, in
a tone of resolute eagerness.

'Ye'll do naething o' the kin',' returned Robert, darting his hand
at his collar. 'Gie me the shillin'. Ye'll want it a' or lang.'

Shargar yielded the coin and slunk behind, while Robert again led
the way till they came to his grandmother's door.

'Gang to the ga'le o' the hoose there, Shargar, and jist keek roon'
the neuk at me; and gin I whustle upo' ye, come up as quaiet 's ye
can. Gin I dinna, bide till I come to ye.'

Robert opened the door cautiously. It was never locked except at
night, or when Betty had gone to the well for water, or to the
butcher's or baker's, or the prayer-meeting, upon which occasions
she put the key in her pocket, and left her mistress a prisoner. He
looked first to the right, along the passage, and saw that his
grandmother's door was shut; then across the passage to the left,
and saw that the kitchen door was likewise shut, because of the
cold, for its normal position was against the wall. Thereupon,
closing the door, but keeping the handle in his hand, and the bolt
drawn back, he turned to the street and whistled soft and low.
Shargar had, in a moment, dragged his heavy feet, ready to part
company with their shoes at any instant, to Robert's side. He bent
his ear to Robert's whisper.

'Gang in there, and creep like a moose to the fit o' the stair. I
maun close the door ahin' 's,' said he, opening the door as he
spoke.

'I'm fleyt (frightened), Robert.'

'Dinna be a fule. Grannie winna bite aff yer heid. She had ane
till her denner, the day, an' it was ill sung (singed).'

'What ane o'?'

'A sheep's heid, ye gowk (fool). Gang in direckly.'

Shargar persisted no longer, but, taking about four steps a minute,
slunk past the kitchen like a thief--not so carefully, however, but
that one of his soles yet looser than the other gave one clap upon
the flagged passage, when Betty straightway stood in the kitchen
door, a fierce picture in a deal frame. By this time Robert had
closed the outer door, and was following at Shargar's heels.

'What's this?' she cried, but not so loud as to reach the ears of
Mrs. Falconer; for, with true Scotch foresight, she would not
willingly call in another power before the situation clearly
demanded it. 'Whaur's Shargar gaein' that gait?'

'Wi' me. Dinna ye see me wi' him? I'm nae a thief, nor yet's
Shargar.'

'There may be twa opingons upo' that, Robert. I s' jist awa' benn
to the mistress. I s' hae nae sic doin's i' my hoose.'

'It's nae your hoose, Betty. Dinna lee.'

'Weel, I s' hae nae sic things gang by my kitchie door. There,
Robert! what 'll ye mak' o' that? There's nae offence, there, I
houp, gin it suldna be a'thegither my ain hoose. Tak Shargar oot o'
that, or I s' awa' benn the hoose, as I tell ye.'

Meantime Shargar was standing on the stones, looking like a
terrified white rabbit, and shaking from head to foot with cold and
fright combined.

'I'll tak him oot o' this, but it's up the stair, Betty. An' gin ye
gang benn the hoose aboot it, I sweir to ye, as sure 's death, I'll
gang doon to Muckledrum upo' Setterday i' the efternune.'

'Gang awa' wi' yer havers. Only gin the mistress speirs onything
aboot it, what am I to say?'

'Bide till she speirs. Auld Spunkie says, "Ready-made answers are
aye to seek." And I say, Betty, hae ye a cauld pitawta (potato)?'

'I'll luik and see. Wadna ye like it het up?'

'Ow ay, gin ye binna lang aboot it.'

Suddenly a bell rang, shrill and peremptory, right above Shargar's
head, causing in him a responsive increase of trembling.

'Haud oot o' my gait. There's the mistress's bell,' said Betty.

'Jist bide till we're roon' the neuk and on to the stair,' said
Robert, now leading the way.

Betty watched them safe round the corner before she made for the
parlour, little thinking to what she had become an unwilling
accomplice, for she never imagined that more than an evening's visit
was intended by Shargar, which in itself seemed to her strange and
improper enough even for such an eccentric boy as Robert to
encourage.

Shargar followed in mortal terror, for, like Christian in The
Pilgrim's Progress, he had no armour to his back. Once round the
corner, two strides of three steps each took them to the top of the
first stair, Shargar knocking his head in the darkness against the
never-opened door. Again three strides brought them to the top of
the second flight; and turning once more, still to the right, Robert
led Shargar up the few steps into the higher of the two garrets.

Here there was just glimmer enough from the sky to discover the
hollow of a close bedstead, built in under the sloping roof, which
served it for a tester, while the two ends and most of the front
were boarded up to the roof. This bedstead fortunately was not so
bare as the one in the other room, although it had not been used for
many years, for an old mattress covered the boards with which it was
bottomed.

'Gang in there, Shargar. Ye'll be warmer there than upo' the
door-step ony gait. Pit aff yer shune.'

Shargar obeyed, full of delight at finding himself in such good
quarters. Robert went to a forsaken press in the room, and brought
out an ancient cloak of tartan, of the same form as what is now
called an Inverness cape, a blue dress-coat, with plain gilt
buttons, which shone even now in the all but darkness, and several
other garments, amongst them a kilt, and heaped them over Shargar as
he lay on the mattress. He then handed him the twopenny and the
penny loaves, which were all his stock had reached to the purchase
of, and left him, saying,--

'I maun awa' to my tay, Shargar. I'll fess ye a cauld tawtie het
again, gin Betty has ony. Lie still, and whatever ye do, dinna come
oot o' that.'

The last injunction was entirely unnecessary.

'Eh, Bob, I'm jist in haven!' said the poor creature, for his skin
began to feel the precious possibility of reviving warmth in the
distance.

Now that he had gained a new burrow, the human animal soon recovered
from his fears as well. It seemed to him, in the novelty of the
place, that he had made so many doublings to reach it, that there
could be no danger of even the mistress of the house finding him
out, for she could hardly be supposed to look after such a remote
corner of her dominions. And then he was boxed in with the bed, and
covered with no end of warm garments, while the friendly darkness
closed him and his shelter all round. Except the faintest blue
gleam from one of the panes in the roof, there was soon no hint of
light anywhere; and this was only sufficient to make the darkness
visible, and thus add artistic effect to the operation of it upon
Shargar's imagination--a faculty certainly uneducated in Shargar,
but far, very far from being therefore non-existent. It was,
indeed, actively operative, although, like that of many a fine lady
and gentleman, only in relation to such primary questions as: 'What
shall we eat? And what shall we drink? And wherewithal shall we be
clothed?' But as he lay and devoured the new 'white breid,' his
satisfaction--the bare delight of his animal existence--reached a
pitch such as even this imagination, stinted with poverty, and
frost-bitten with maternal oppression, had never conceived possible.
The power of enjoying the present without anticipation of the
future or regard of the past, is the especial privilege of the
animal nature, and of the human nature in proportion as it has not
been developed beyond the animal. Herein lies the happiness of cab
horses and of tramps: to them the gift of forgetfulness is of worth
inestimable. Shargar's heaven was for the present gained.

CHAPTER V.

THE SYMPOSIUM.

Robert had scarcely turned out of the square on his way to find
Shargar, when a horseman entered it. His horse and he were both
apparently black on one side and gray on the other, from the
snow-drift settling to windward. The animal looked tired, but the
rider sat as easy as if he were riding to cover. The reins hung
loose, and the horse went in a straight line for The Boar's Head,
stopping under the archway only when his master drew bridle at the
door of the inn.

At that moment Miss Letty was standing at the back of Miss Napier's
chair, leaning her arms upon it as she talked to her. This was her
way of resting as often as occasion arose for a chat with her elder
sister. Miss Letty's hair was gathered in a great knot at the top
of her head, and little ringlets hung like tendrils down the sides
of her face, the benevolence of which was less immediately striking
than that of her sister's, because of the constant play of humour
upon it, especially about the mouth. If a spirit of satire could be
supposed converted into something Christian by an infusion of the
tenderest loving-kindness and humanity, remaining still recognizable
notwithstanding that all its bitterness was gone, such was the
expression of Miss Letty's mouth, It was always half puckered as if
in resistance to a comic smile, which showed itself at the windows
of the keen gray eyes, however the mouth might be able to keep it
within doors. She was neatly dressed in black silk, with a lace
collar. Her hands were small and white.

The moment the traveller stopped at the door, Miss Napier started.

'Letty,' she said, 'wha's that? I could amaist sweir to Black
Geordie's fit.'

'A' four o' them, I think,' returned Miss Letty, as the horse,
notwithstanding, or perhaps in consequence of his fatigue, began to
paw and move about on the stones impatiently.

The rider had not yet spoken.

'He'll be efter some o' 's deevil-ma'-care sculduddery. But jist
rin to the door, Letty, or Lizzy 'll be there afore ye, and maybe
she wadna be ower ceevil. What can he be efter noo?'

'What wad the grew (grayhound) be efter but maukin (hare)?' returned
Miss Letty.

'Hoot! nonsense! He kens naething aboot her. Gang to the door,
lassie.'

Miss Letty obeyed.

'Wha's there?' she asked, somewhat sharply, as she opened it, 'that
neither chaps (knocks) nor ca's?--Preserve 's a'! is't you, my
lord?'

'Hoo ken ye me, Miss Letty withoot seein' my face?'

'A'body at The Boar's Heid kens Black Geordie as weel 's yer
lordship's ain sel'. But whaur comes yer lordship frae in sic a
nicht as this?'

'From Russia. Never dismounted between Moscow and Aberdeen. The
ice is bearing to-night.'

And the baron laughed inside the upturned collar of his cloak, for
he knew that strangely-exaggerated stories were current about his
feats in the saddle.

'That's a lang ride, my lord, and a sliddery. And what's yer
lordship's wull?'

'Muckle ye care aboot my lordship to stand jawin' there in a night
like this! Is nobody going to take my horse?'

'I beg yer lordship's pardon. Caumill!--Yer lordship never said ye
wanted yer lordship's horse ta'en. I thocht ye micht be gaein' on
to The Bothie.--Tak' Black Geordie here, Caumill.--Come in to the
parlour, my lord.'

'How d'ye do, Miss Naper?' said Lord Rothie, as he entered the room.
'Here's this jade of a sister of yours asking me why I don't go home
to The Bothie, when I choose to stop and water here.'

'What'll ye tak', my lord?--Letty, fess the brandy.'

'Oh! damn your brandy! Bring me a gill of good Glendronach.'

'Rin, Letty. His lordship's cauld.--I canna rise to offer ye the
airm-cheir, my lord.'

'I can get one for myself, thank heaven!'

'Lang may yer lordship return sic thanks.'
'For I'm only new begun, ye think, Miss Naper. Well, I don't often
trouble heaven with my affairs. By Jove! I ought to be heard when
I do.'

'Nae doobt ye will, my lord, whan ye seek onything that's fit to be
gien ye.'

'True. Heaven's gifts are seldom much worth the asking.'

'Haud yer tongue, my lord, and dinna bring doon a judgment upo' my
hoose, for it wad be missed oot o' Rothieden,'

'You're right there, Miss Naper. And here comes the whisky to stop
my mouth.'

The Baron of Rothie sat for a few minutes with his feet on the
fender before Miss Letty's blazing fire, without speaking, while he
sipped the whisky neat from a wine-glass. He was a man about the
middle height, rather full-figured, muscular and active, with a
small head, and an eye whose brightness had not yet been dimmed by
the sensuality which might be read in the condition rather than
frame of his countenance. But while he spoke so pleasantly to the
Miss Napiers, and his forehead spread broad and smooth over the
twinkle of his hazel eye, there was a sharp curve on each side of
his upper lip, half-way between the corner and the middle, which
reminded one of the same curves in the lip of his ancestral boar's
head, where it was lifted up by the protruding tusks. These curves
disappeared, of course, when he smiled, and his smile, being a
lord's, was generally pronounced irresistible. He was good-natured,
and nowise inclined to stand upon his rank, so long as he had his
own way.

'Any customers by the mail to-night, Miss Naper?' he asked, in a
careless tone.

'Naebody partic'lar, my lord.'

'I thought ye never let anybody in that wasn't particularly
particular. No foot-passengers--eh?'

'Hoot, my lord! that's twa year ago. Gin I had jaloosed him to be a
fren' o' yer lordship's, forby bein' a lord himsel', ye ken as weel
's I du that I wadna hae sent him ower the gait to Luckie Happit's,
whaur he wadna even be ower sure o' gettin' clean sheets. But gin
lords an' lords' sons will walk afit like ither fowk, wha's to ken
them frae ither fowk?'

'Well, Miss Naper, he was no lord at all. He was nothing but a
factor-body doon frae Glenbucket.'

'There was sma' hairm dune than, my lord. I'm glaid to hear 't.
But what'll yer lordship hae to yer supper?'

'I would like a dish o' your chits and nears (sweetbreads and
kidneys).'

'Noo, think o' that!' returned the landlady, laughing. 'You great
fowk wad hae the verra coorse o' natur' turned upside doon to shuit
yersels. Wha ever heard o' caure (calves) at this time o' the
year?'

'Well, anything you like. Who was it came by the mail, did you
say?'

'I said naebody partic'lar, my lord.'

'Well, I'll just go and have a look at Black Geordie.'

'Verra weel, my lord.--Letty, rin an' luik efter him; and as sune 's
he's roon' the neuk, tell Lizzie no to say a word aboot the leddy.
As sure 's deith he's efter her. Whaur cud he hae heard tell o'
her?'

Lord Rothie came, a moment after, sauntering into the bar-parlour,
where Lizzie, the third Miss Napier, a red-haired, round-eyed,
white-toothed woman of forty, was making entries in a book.

'She's a bonnie lassie that, that came in the coach to-night, they
say, Miss Lizzie.'

'As ugly 's sin, my lord,' answered Lizzie.

'I hae seen some sin 'at was nane sae ugly, Miss Lizzie.'

'She wad hae clean scunnert (disgusted) ye, my lord. It's a mercy
ye didna see her.'

'If she be as ugly as all that, I would just like to see her.'

Miss Lizzie saw she had gone too far.

'Ow, deed! gin yer lordship wants to see her, ye may see her at yer
wull. I s' gang and tell her.'

And she rose as if to go.

'No, no. Nothing of the sort, Miss Lizzie. Only I heard that she
was bonnie, and I wanted to see her. You know I like to look at a
pretty girl.'

'That's ower weel kent, my lord.'

'Well, there's no harm in that, Miss Lizzie.'

'There's no harm in that, my lord, though yer lordship says 't.'

The facts were that his lordship had been to the county-town, some
forty miles off, and Black Geordie had been sent to Hillknow to meet
him; for in any weather that would let him sit, he preferred
horseback to every other mode of travelling, though he seldom would
be followed by a groom. He had posted to Hillknow, and had dined
with a friend at the inn. The coach stopping to change horses, he
had caught a glimpse of a pretty face, as he thought, from its
window, and had hoped to overtake the coach before it reached
Rothieden. But stopping to drink another bottle, he had failed; and
it was on the merest chance of seeing that pretty face that he
stopped at The Boar's Head. In all probability, had the Marquis seen
the lady, he would not have thought her at all such a beauty as she
appeared in the eyes of Dooble Sanny; nor, I venture to think, had
he thought as the shoemaker did, would he yet have dared to address
her in other than the words of such respect as he could still feel
in the presence of that which was more noble than himself.

Whether or not on his visit to the stable he found anything amiss
with Black Geordie, I cannot tell, but he now begged Miss Lizzie to
have a bedroom prepared for him.

It happened to be the evening of Friday, one devoted by some of the
townspeople to a symposium. To this, knowing that the talk will
throw a glimmer on several matters, I will now introduce my reader,
as a spectator through the reversed telescope of my history.