Books: Robert Falconer

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A few of the more influential of the inhabitants had grown, rather
than formed themselves, into a kind of club, which met weekly at The
Boar's Head. Although they had no exclusive right to the room in
which they sat, they generally managed to retain exclusive
possession of it; for if any supposed objectionable person entered,
they always got rid of him, sometimes without his being aware of how
they had contrived to make him so uncomfortable. They began to
gather about seven o'clock, when it was expected that boiling water
would be in readiness for the compound generally called toddy,
sometimes punch. As soon as six were assembled, one was always
voted into the chair.

On the present occasion, Mr. Innes, the school-master, was
unanimously elected to that honour. He was a hard-featured,
sententious, snuffy individual, of some learning, and great
respectability.

I omit the political talk with which their intercommunications
began; for however interesting at the time is the scaffolding by
which existing institutions arise, the poles and beams when gathered
again in the builder's yard are scarcely a subject for the artist.

The first to lead the way towards matters of nearer personality was
William MacGregor, the linen manufacturer, a man who possessed a
score of hand-looms or so--half of which, from the advance of cotton
and the decline of linen-wear, now stood idle--but who had already a
sufficient deposit in the hands of Mr. Thomson the banker--agent,
that is, for the county-bank--to secure him against any necessity
for taking to cotton shirts himself, which were an abomination and
offence unpardonable in his eyes.

'Can ye tell me, Mr. Cocker,' he said, 'what mak's Sandy, Lord
Rothie, or Wrathy, or what suld he be ca'd?--tak' to The Bothie at a
time like this, whan there's neither huntin', nor fishin', nor
shutin', nor onything o' the kin' aboot han' to be playacks till
him, the bonnie bairn--'cep' it be otters an' sic like?'

William was a shrunken old man, with white whiskers and a black wig,
a keen black eye, always in search of the ludicrous in other people,
and a mouth ever on the move, as if masticating something comical.

'You know just as well as I do,' answered Mr. Cocker, the Marquis of
Boarshead's factor for the surrounding estate. 'He never was in the
way of giving a reason for anything, least of all for his own
movements.'

'Somebody was sayin' to me,' resumed MacGregor, who, in all
probability, invented the story at the moment, 'that the prince took
him kissin' ane o' his servan' lasses, and kickit him oot o' Carlton
Hoose into the street, and he canna win' ower the disgrace o' 't.'

''Deed for the kissin',' said Mr. Thomson, a portly,
comfortable-looking man, 'that's neither here nor there, though it
micht hae been a duchess or twa; but for the kickin', my word! but
Lord Sandy was mair likly to kick oot the prince. Do ye min' hoo he
did whan the Markis taxed him wi'--?'

'Haud a quaiet sough,' interposed Mr. Cruickshank, the solicitor;
'there's a drap i' the hoose.'

This was a phrase well understood by the company, indicating the
presence of some one unknown, or unfit to be trusted.

As he spoke he looked towards the farther end of the room, which lay
in obscurity; for it was a large room, lighted only by the four
candles on the table at which the company sat.

'Whaur, Mr. Cruickshank?' asked the dominie in a whisper.

'There,' answered Sampson Peddie, the bookseller, who seized the
opportunity of saying something, and pointed furtively where the
solicitor had only looked.

A dim figure was descried at a table in the farthest corner of the
room, and they proceeded to carry out the plan they generally
adopted to get rid of a stranger.

'Ye made use o' a curious auld Scots phrase this moment, Mr.
Curshank: can ye explain hoo it comes to beir the meanin' that it's
weel kent to beir?' said the manufacturer.

'Not I, Mr. MacGregor,' answered the solicitor. 'I'm no philologist
or antiquarian. Ask the chairman.'

'Gentlemen,' responded Mr. Innes, taking a huge pinch of snuff after
the word, and then, passing the box to Mr. Cocker, a sip from his
glass before he went on: 'the phrase, gentlemen, "a drap i' the
hoose," no doobt refers to an undesirable presence, for ye're weel
awaur that it's a most unpleasin' discovery, in winter especially,
to find a drop o' water hangin' from yer ceiling; a something, in
short, whaur it has no business to be, and is not accordingly looked
for, or prepared against.'

'It seems to me, Mr. Innes,' said MacGregor, 'that ye hae hit the
nail, but no upo' the heid. What mak' ye o' the phrase, no confined
to the Scots tongue, I believe, o' an eaves-drapper? The whilk, no
doobt, represents a body that hings aboot yer winnock, like a drap
hangin' ower abune it frae the eaves--therefore called an eaves
drapper. But the sort of whilk we noo speak, are a waur sort
a'thegither; for they come to the inside o' yer hoose, o' yer verra
chaumer, an' hing oot their lang lugs to hear what ye carena to be
hard save by a dooce frien' or twa ower a het tum'ler.'

At the same moment the door opened, and a man entered, who was
received with unusual welcome.

'Bless my sowl!' said the president, rising; 'it's Mr. Lammie!--Come
awa', Mr. Lammie. Sit doon; sit doon. Whaur hae ye been this mony
a day, like a pelican o' the wilderness?'

Mr. Lammie was a large, mild man, with florid cheeks, no whiskers,
and a prominent black eye. He was characterized by a certain simple
alacrity, a gentle, but outspeaking readiness, which made him a
favourite.

'I dinna richtly mak' oot wha ye are,' he answered. 'Ye hae unco
little licht here! Hoo are ye a', gentlemen? I s' discover ye by
degrees, and pay my respecks accordin'.'

And he drew a chair to the table.

''Deed I wuss ye wad,' returned MacGregor, in a voice pretentiously
hushed, but none the less audible. 'There's a drap in yon en' o' the
hoose, Mr. Lammie.'

'Hoot! never min' the man,' said Lammie, looking round in the
direction indicated. 'I s' warran' he cares as little aboot hiz as
we care aboot him. There's nae treason noo a-days. I carena wha
hears what I say.'

'For my pairt,' said Mr. Peddie, 'I canna help wonnerin' gin it cud
be oor auld frien' Mr. Faukener.'

'Speyk o' the de'il--' said Mr. Lammie.

'Hoot! na,' returned Peddie, interrupting. 'He wasna a'thegither the
de'il.'

'Haud the tongue o' ye,' retorted Lammie. 'Dinna ye ken a proverb
whan ye hear 't? De'il hae ye! ye're as sharpset as a missionar'.
I was only gaun to say that I'm doobtin' Andrew's deid.'

'Ay! ay!' commenced a chorus of questioning.

'Mhm!'

'Aaay!'

'What gars ye think that?'

'And sae he's deid!'

'He was a great favourite, Anerew!'

'Whaur dee'd he?'

'Aye some upsettin' though!'

'Ay. He was aye to be somebody wi' his tale.'

'A gude-hertit crater, but ye cudna lippen till him.'

'Speyk nae ill o' the deid. Maybe they'll hear ye, and turn roon'
i' their coffins, and that'll whumle you i' your beds,' said
MacGregor, with a twinkle in his eye.

'Ring the bell for anither tum'ler, Sampson,' said the chairman.

'What'll be dune wi' that factory place, noo? It'll be i' the
market?'

'It's been i' the market for mony a year. But it's no his ava. It
belangs to the auld leddy, his mither,' said the weaver.

'Why don't you buy it, Mr. MacGregor, and set up a cotton mill?
There's not much doing with the linen now,' said Mr. Cocker.

'Me!' returned MacGregor, with indignation. 'The Lord forgie ye for
mintin' (hinting) at sic a thing, Mr. Cocker! Me tak' to coaton! I
wad as sune spin the hair frae Sawtan's hurdies. Short fushionless
dirt, that canna grow straucht oot o' the halesome yird, like the
bonnie lint-bells, but maun stick itsel' upo' a buss!--set it up!
Coorse vulgar stuff, 'at naebody wad weir but loup-coonter lads
that wad fain luik like gentlemen by means o' the collars and
ruffles--an' a' comin' frae the auld loom! They may weel affoord
se'enteen hunner linen to set it aff wi' 'at has naething but coaton
inside the breeks o' them.'

'But Dr. Wagstaff says it's healthier,' interposed Peddie.

'I'll wag a staff till him. De'il a bit o' 't 's healthier! an'
that he kens. It's nae sae healthy, an' sae it mak's him mair wark
wi' 's poothers an' his drauchts, an' ither stinkin' stuff.
Healthier! What neist?'

'Somebody tellt me,' said the bookseller, inwardly conscious of
offence, ''at hoo Lord Sandy himsel' weirs cotton.'

'Ow 'deed, maybe. And he sets mony a worthy example furbye. Hoo
mony, can ye tell me, Mr. Peddie, has he pulled doon frae honest, if
no frae high estate, and sent oot to seek their livin' as he taucht
them? Hoo mony--?'

'Hoot, hoot! Mr. MacGregor, his lordship hasn't a cotton shirt in
his possession, I'll be bound,' said Mr. Cocker. 'And, besides, you
have not to wash his dirty linen--or cotton either.'

'That's as muckle as to say, accordin' to Cocker, that I'm no to
speik a word against him. But I'll say what I like. He's no my
maister,' said MacGregor, who could drink very little without
suffering in his temper and manners; and who, besides, had a certain
shrewd suspicion as to the person who still sat in the dark end of
the room, possibly because the entrance of Mr. Lammie had
interrupted the exorcism.

The chairman interposed with soothing words; and the whole company,
Cocker included, did its best to pacify the manufacturer; for they
all knew what would be the penalty if they failed.

A good deal of talk followed, and a good deal of whisky was drunk.
They were waited upon by Meg, who, without their being aware of it,
cast a keen parting glance at them every time she left the room. At
length the conversation had turned again to Andrew Falconer's death.

'Whaur said ye he dee'd, Mr. Lammie?'

'I never said he was deid. I said I was feared 'at he was deid.'

'An' what gars ye say that? It micht be o' consequence to hae 't
correck,' said the solicitor.

'I had a letter frae my auld frien' and his, Dr. Anderson. Ye min'
upo' him, Mr. Innes, dunna ye? He's heid o' the medical boord at
Calcutta noo. He says naething but that he doobts he's gane. He
gaed up the country, and he hasna hard o' him for sae lang. We hae
keepit up a correspondence for mony a year noo, Dr. Anderson an' me.
He was a relation o' Anerew's, ye ken--a second cousin, or
something. He'll be hame or lang, I'm thinkin', wi' a fine
pension.'

'He winna weir a cotton sark, I'll be boon',' said MacGregor.

'What's the auld leddy gaein' to du wi' that lang-leggit oye
(grandson) o' hers, Anerew's son?' asked Sampson.

'Ow! he'll be gaein' to the college, I'm thinkin'. He's a fine lad,
and a clever, they tell me,' said Mr. Thomson.

'Indeed, he's all that, and more too,' said the school-master.

'There's naething 'ull du but the college noo!' said MacGregor, whom
nobody heeded, for fear of again rousing his anger.

'Hoo 'ill she manage that, honest woman? She maun hae but little to
spare frae the cleedin' o' 'm.'

'She's a gude manager, Mistress Faukner. And, ye see, she has the
bleachgreen yet.'

'She doesna weir cotton sarks,' growled MacGregor. 'Mony's the wob
o' mine she's bleached and boucht tu!'

Nobody heeding him yet, he began to feel insulted, and broke in upon
the conversation with intent.

'Ye haena telt 's yet, Cocker,' he said, 'what that maister o' yours
is duin' here at this time o' the year. I wad ken that, gin ye
please.'

'How should I know, Mr. MacGregor?' returned the factor, taking no
notice of the offensive manner in which the question was put.

'He's no a hair better nor ane o' thae Algerine pirates 'at Lord
Exmooth's het the hips o'--and that's my opingon.'

'He's nae amo' your feet, MacGregor,' said the banker. 'Ye micht
jist lat him lie.'

'Gin I had him doon, faith gin I wadna lat him lie! I'll jist tell
ye ae thing, gentlemen, that cam' to my knowledge no a hunner year
ago. An' it's a' as true 's gospel, though I hae aye held my tongue
aboot it till this verra nicht. Ay! ye'll a' hearken noo; but it's
no lauchin', though there was sculduddery eneuch, nae doobt, afore
it cam' that len'th. And mony a het drap did the puir lassie greet,
I can tell ye. Faith! it was no lauchin' to her. She was a servan'
o' oors, an' a ticht bonnie lass she was. They ca'd her the
weyver's bonny Mary--that's the name she gaed by. Weel, ye see--'

MacGregor was interrupted by a sound from the further end of the
room. The stranger, whom most of them had by this time forgotten,
had risen, and was approaching the table where they sat.

'Guid guide us!' interrupted several under their breaths, as all
rose, 'it's Lord Sandy himsel'!'

'I thank you, gentleman,' he said, with a mixture of irony and
contempt, 'for the interest you take in my private history. I
should have thought it had been as little to the taste as it is to
the honour of some of you to listen to such a farrago of lies.'

'Lees! my lord,' said MacGregor, starting to his feet. Mr. Cocker
looked dismayed, and Mr. Lammie sheepish--all of them dazed and
dumbfoundered, except the old weaver, who, as his lordship turned to
leave the room, added:

'Lang lugs (ears) suld be made o' leather, my lord, for fear they
grow het wi' what they hear.'

Lord Rothie turned in a rage. He too had been drinking.

'Kick that toad into the street, or, by heaven! it's the last drop
any of you drink in this house!' he cried.

'The taed may tell the poddock (frog) what the rottan (rat) did i'
the taed's hole, my lord,' said MacGregor, whom independence,
honesty, bile, and drink combined to render fearless.

Lord Sandy left the room without another word. His factor took his
hat and followed him. The rest dropped into their seats in silence.
Mr. Lammie was the first to speak.

'There's a pliskie!' he said.

'I cud jist say the word efter auld Simeon,' said MacGregor.

'I never thocht to be sae favoured! Eh! but I hae langed, and noo I
hae spoken!' with which words he sat down, contented.

When Mr. Cocker overtook his master, as MacGregor had not unfitly
styled him, he only got a damning for his pains, and went home
considerably crestfallen.

Lord Rothie returned to the landlady in her parlour.

'What's the maitter wi' ye, my lord? What's vexed ye?' asked Miss
Napier, with a twinkle in her eyes, for she thought, from the
baron's mortification, he must have received some rebuff, and now
that the bonnie leddy was safe at Captain Forsyth's, enjoyed the
idea of it.

'Ye keep an ill-tongued hoose, Miss Naper,' answered his lordship.

Miss Napier guessed at the truth at once--that he had overheard some
free remarks on his well-known licence of behaviour.

'Weel, my lord, I do my best. A body canna keep an inn and speir
the carritchis (catechism) at the door o' 't. But I believe ye're
i' the richt, my lord, for I heard an awfu' aff-gang o' sweirin' i'
the yard, jist afore yer lordship cam' in. An' noo' 'at I think o'
't, it wasna that onlike yer lordship's ain word.'

Lord Sandy broke into a loud laugh. He could enjoy a joke against
himself when it came from a woman, and was founded on such a trifle
as a personal vice.

'I think I'll go to bed,' he said when his laugh was over. 'I
believe it's the only safe place from your tongue, Miss Naper.'

'Letty,' cried Miss Napier, 'fess a can'le, and show his lordship to
the reid room.'

Till Miss Letty appeared, the baron sat and stretched himself. He
then rose and followed her into the archway, and up an outside stair
to a door which opened immediately upon a handsome old-fashioned
room, where a blazing fire lighted up the red hangings. Miss Letty
set down the candle, and bidding his lordship good night, turned and
left the room, shutting the door, and locking it behind her--a
proceeding of which his lordship took no notice, for, however
especially suitable it might be in his case, it was only, from
whatever ancient source derived, the custom of the house in regard
to this particular room and a corresponding chamber on the opposite
side of the archway.

Meantime the consternation amongst the members of the club was not
so great as not to be talked over, or to prevent the call for more
whisky and hot water. All but MacGregor, however, regretted what
had occurred. He was so elevated with his victory and a sense of
courage and prowess, that he became more and more facetious and
overbearing.

'It's all very well for you, Mr. MacGregor,' said the dominie, with
dignity: 'you have nothing to lose.'

'Troth! he canna brak the bank--eh, Mr. Tamson?'

'He may give me a hint to make you withdraw your money, though, Mr.
MacGregor.'

'De'il care gin I do!' returned the weaver. 'I can mak' better o' 't
ony day.'

'But there's yer hoose an' kailyard,' suggested Peddie.

'They're ma ain!--a' ma ain! He canna lay 's finger on onything o'
mine but my servan' lass,' cried the weaver, slapping his
thigh-bone--for there was little else to slap.

Meg, at the moment, was taking her exit-glance. She went straight
to Miss Napier.

'Willie MacGregor's had eneuch, mem, an' a drappy ower.'

'Sen' Caumill doon to Mrs. MacGregor to say wi' my compliments that
she wad do weel to sen' for him,' was the response.

Meantime he grew more than troublesome. Ever on the outlook, when
sober, after the foibles of others, he laid himself open to endless
ridicule when in drink, which, to tell the truth, was a rare
occurrence. He was in the midst of a prophetic denunciation of the
vices of the nobility, and especially of Lord Rothie, when Meg,
entering the room, went quietly behind his chair and whispered:

'Maister MacGregor, there's a lassie come for ye.'

'I'm nae in,' he answered, magnificently.

'But it's the mistress 'at's sent for ye. Somebody's wantin' ye.'

'Somebody maun want me, than.--As I was sayin', Mr. Cheerman and
gentlemen--'

'Mistress MacGregor 'll be efter ye hersel', gin ye dinna gang,'
said Meg.

'Let her come. Duv ye think I'm fleyt at her? De'il a step 'll I
gang till I please. Tell her that, Meg.'

Meg left the room, with a broad grin on her good-humoured face.

'What's the bitch lauchin' at?' exclaimed MacGregor, starting to his
feet.

The whole company rose likewise, using their endeavour to persuade
him to go home.

'Duv ye think I'm drunk, sirs? I'll lat ye ken I'm no drunk. I hae
a wull o' mine ain yet. Am I to gang hame wi' a lassie to haud me
oot o' the gutters? Gin ye daur to alloo that I'm drunk, ye ken hoo
ye'll fare, for de'il a fit 'll I gang oot o' this till I hae
anither tum'ler.'

'I'm thinkin' there's mair o' 's jist want ane mair,' said Peddie.

A confirmatory murmur arose as each looked into the bottom of his
tumbler, and the bell was instantly rung. But it only brought Meg
back with the message that it was time for them all to go home.
Every eye turned upon MacGregor reproachfully.

'Ye needna luik at me that gait, sirs. I'm no fou,' said he.

''Deed no. Naebody taks ye to be,' answered the chairman. 'Meggie,
there's naebody's had ower muckle yet, and twa or three o' 's hasna
had freely eneuch. Jist gang an' fess a mutchkin mair. An'
there'll be a shillin' to yersel', lass.'

Meg retired, but straightway returned.

'Miss Naper says there's no a drap mair drink to be had i' this
hoose the nicht.'

'Here, Meggie,' said the chairman, 'there's yer shillin'; and ye
jist gang to Miss Lettie, and gie her my compliments, and say that
Mr. Lammie's here, and we haena seen him for a lang time. And'--the
rest was spoken in a whisper--'I'll sweir to ye, Meggie, the weyver
body sanna hae ae drap o' 't.'

Meg withdrew once more, and returned.

'Miss Letty's compliments, sir, and Miss Naper has the keys, and
she's gane till her bed, and we maunna disturb her. And it's time
'at a' honest fowk was in their beds tu. And gin Mr. Lammie wants a
bed i' this hoose, he maun gang till 't. An' here's his can'le.
Gude nicht to ye a', gentlemen.'

So saying, Meg set the lighted candle on the sideboard, and finally
vanished. The good-tempered, who formed the greater part of the
company, smiled to each other, and emptied the last drops of their
toddy first into their glasses, and thence into their mouths. The
ill-tempered, numbering but one more than MacGregor, growled and
swore a little, the weaver declaring that he would not go home. But
the rest walked out and left him, and at last, appalled by the
silence, he rose with his wig awry, and trotted--he always trotted
when he was tipsy--home to his wife.

CHAPTER VI.

MRS. FALCONER.

Meantime Robert was seated in the parlour at the little dark
mahogany table, in which the lamp, shaded towards his grandmother's
side, shone brilliantly reflected. Her face being thus hidden both
by the light and the shadow, he could not observe the keen look of
stern benevolence with which, knowing that he could not see her, she
regarded him as he ate his thick oat-cake of Betty's skilled
manufacture, well loaded with the sweetest butter, and drank the tea
which she had poured out and sugared for him with liberal hand. It
was a comfortable little room, though its inlaid mahogany chairs and
ancient sofa, covered with horsehair, had a certain look of
hardness, no doubt. A shepherdess and lamb, worked in silks whose
brilliance had now faded half-way to neutrality, hung in a black
frame, with brass rosettes at the corners, over the
chimney-piece--the sole approach to the luxury of art in the homely
little place. Besides the muslin stretched across the lower part of
the window, it was undefended by curtains. There was no cat in the
room, nor was there one in the kitchen even; for Mrs. Falconer had
such a respect for humanity that she grudged every morsel consumed
by the lower creation. She sat in one of the arm-chairs belonging
to the hairy set, leaning back in contemplation of her grandson, as
she took her tea.

She was a handsome old lady--little, but had once been taller, for
she was more than seventy now. She wore a plain cap of muslin,
lying close to her face, and bordered a little way from the edge
with a broad black ribbon, which went round her face, and then,
turning at right angles, went round the back of her neck. Her gray
hair peeped a little way from under this cap. A clear but
short-sighted eye of a light hazel shone under a smooth thoughtful
forehead; a straight and well-elevated, but rather short nose, which
left the firm upper lip long and capable of expressing a world of
dignified offence, rose over a well-formed mouth, revealing more
moral than temperamental sweetness; while the chin was rather
deficient than otherwise, and took little share in indicating the
remarkable character possessed by the old lady.

After gazing at Robert for some time, she took a piece of oat-cake
from a plate by her side, the only luxury in which she indulged, for
it was made with cream instead of water--it was very little she ate
of anything--and held it out to Robert in a hand white, soft, and
smooth, but with square finger tips, and squat though pearly nails.
'Ha'e, Robert,' she said; and Robert received it with a 'Thank you,
grannie'; but when he thought she did not see him, slipped it under
the table and into his pocket. She saw him well enough, however,
and although she would not condescend to ask him why he put it away
instead of eating it, the endeavour to discover what could have been
his reason for so doing cost her two hours of sleep that night. She
would always be at the bottom of a thing if reflection could reach
it, but she generally declined taking the most ordinary measures to
expedite the process.

When Robert had finished his tea, instead of rising to get his books
and betake himself to his lessons, in regard to which his
grandmother had seldom any cause to complain, although she would
have considered herself guilty of high treason against the boy's
future if she had allowed herself once to acknowledge as much, he
drew his chair towards the fire, and said:

'Grandmamma!'

'He's gaein' to tell me something,' said Mrs. Falconer to herself.
'Will 't be aboot the puir barfut crater they ca' Shargar, or will
't be aboot the piece he pat intil 's pooch?'

'Weel, laddie?' she said aloud, willing to encourage him.

'Is 't true that my gran'father was the blin' piper o' Portcloddie?'

'Ay, laddie; true eneuch. Hoots, na! nae yer grandfather, but yer
father's grandfather, laddie--my husband's father.'

'Hoo cam that aboot?'

'Weel, ye see, he was oot i' the Forty-five; and efter the battle o'
Culloden, he had to rin for 't. He wasna wi' his ain clan at the
battle, for his father had broucht him to the Lawlands whan he was a
lad; but he played the pipes till a reg'ment raised by the Laird o'
Portcloddie. And for ooks (weeks) he had to hide amo' the rocks.
And they tuik a' his property frae him. It wasna muckle--a wheen
hooses, and a kailyard or twa, wi' a bit fairmy on the tap o' a
cauld hill near the sea-shore; but it was eneuch and to spare; and
whan they tuik it frae him, he had naething left i' the warl' but
his sons. Yer grandfather was born the verra day o' the battle, and
the verra day 'at the news cam, the mother deed. But yer great
grandfather wasna lang or he merried anither wife. He was sic a man
as ony woman micht hae been prood to merry. She was the dother
(daughter) o' an episcopalian minister, and she keepit a school in
Portcloddie. I saw him first mysel' whan I was aboot twenty--that
was jist the year afore I was merried. He was a gey (considerably)
auld man than, but as straucht as an ellwand, and jist pooerfu'
beyon' belief. His shackle-bane (wrist) was as thick as baith mine;
and years and years efter that, whan he tuik his son, my husband,
and his grandson, my Anerew--'