The Fortunes of Nigel by Walter Scott (good summer reads txt) 📕

“I parted with her at Paul's Wharf,” said Nigel, “where she went ashore with her charge. I gave her a letter to that very man, John Christie.”

“Ay, that is the waterman's story; but John Christie denies that he remembers anything of the matter.”

“I am sorry to hear this,” said the young nobleman; “I hope in Heaven she has not been trepanned, for the treasure she had with her.”

“I hope not, my lord,” replied Heriot; “but men's minds are much disturbed about it. Our national character suffers on all hands. Men remember the fatal case of Lord Sanquhar, hanged for the murder of a fencing-master; and exclaim, they will not have their wives whored, and their property stolen, by the nobility of Scotland.”

“And all this is laid to my door!” said Nigel; “my exculpation is easy.”

“I trust so, my lord,” said Heriot;—“nay, in this particular, I do not doubt it.—But why did you leave Whitefriars under such circumstances?”

“Master Reginald Lowestoffe sent a boat for me, with intimation to provide for my safety.”

“I am sorry to say,” replied Heriot, “that he denies all knowledge of your lordship's motions, after having dispatched a messenger to you with some baggage.”

“The watermen told me they were employed by him.”

“Watermen!” said Heriot; “one of these proves to be an idle apprentice, an old acquaintance of mine—the other has escaped; but the fellow who is in custody persists in saying he was employed by your lordship, and you only.”

“He lies!” said Lord Glenvarloch, hastily;—“He told me Master Lowestoffe had sent him.—I hope that kind-hearted gentleman is at liberty?”

“He is,” answered Heriot; “and has escaped with a rebuke from the benchers, for interfering in such a matter as your lordship's. The Court desire to keep well with the young Templars in these times of commotion, or he had not come off so well.”

“That is the only word of comfort I have heard from you,” replied Nigel. “But this poor woman,—she and her trunk were committed to the charge of two porters.”

“So said the pretended waterman; but none of the fellows who ply at the wharf will acknowledge the employment.—I see the idea makes you uneasy, my lord; but every effort is made to discover the poor woman's place of retreat—if, indeed, she yet lives.—And now, my lord, my errand is spoken, so far as it relates exclusively to your lordship; what remains, is matter of business of a more formal kind.”

“Let us proceed to it without delay,” said Lord Glenvarloch. “I would hear of the affairs of any one rather than of my own.”

“You cannot have forgotten, my lord,” said Heriot, “the transaction which took place some weeks since at Lord Huntinglen's—by which a large sum of money was advanced for the redemption of your lordship's estate?”

“I remember it perfectly,” said Nigel; “and your present austerity cannot make me forget your kindness on the occasion.”

Heriot bowed gravely, and went on.—“That money was advanced under the expectation and hope that it might be replaced by the contents of a grant to your lordship, under the royal sign-manual, in payment of certain monies due by the crown to your father.—I trust your lordship understood the transaction at the time—I trust you now understand my resumption of its import, and hold it to be correct?”

“Undeniably correct,” answered Lord Glenvarloch. “If the sums contained in the warrant cannot be recovered, my lands become the property of those who paid off the original holders of the mortgage, and now stand in their right.”

“Even so, my lord,” said Heriot. “And your lordship's unhappy circumstances having, it would seem, alarmed these creditors, they are now, I am sorry to say, pressing for one or other of these alternatives—possession of the land, or payment of their debt.”

“They have a right to one or other,” answered Lord Glenvarloch; “and as I cannot do the last in my present condition, I suppose they must enter on possession.”

“Stay, my lord,” replied Heriot; “if you have ceased to call me a friend to your person, at least you shall see I am willing to be such to your father's house, were it but for the sake of your father's memory. If you will trust me with the warrant under the sign-manual, I believe circumstances do now so stand at Court, that I may be able to recover the money for you.”

“I would do so gladly,” said Lord Glenvarloch, “but the casket which contains it is not in my possession. It was seized when I was arrested at Greenwich.”

“It will be no longer withheld from you,” said Heriot; “for, I understand, my Master's natural good sense, and some information which he has procured, I know not how, has induced him to contradict the whole charge of the attempt on his person. It is entirely hushed up; and you will only be proceeded against for your violence on Lord Dalgarno, committed within the verge of the Palace—and that you will find heavy enough to answer.”

“I will not shrink under the weight,” said Lord Glenvarloch. “But that is not the present point.—If I had that casket—”

“Your baggage stood in the little ante-room, as I passed,” said the citizen; “the casket caught my eye. I think you had it of me. It was my old friend Sir Faithful Frugal's. Ay; he, too, had a son—”

Here he stopped short.

“A son who, like Lord Glenvarloch's, did no credit to his father.—Was it not so you would have ended the sentence, Master Heriot?” asked the young nobleman.

“My lord, it was a word spoken rashly,” answered Heriot. “God may mend all in his own good time. This, however, I will say, that I have sometimes envied my friends their fair and flourishing families; and yet have I seen such changes when death has removed the head, so many rich men's sons penniless, the heirs of so many knights and nobles acreless, that I think mine own estate and memory, as I shall order it, has a fair chance of outliving those of greater men, though God has given me no heir of my name. But this is from the purpose.—Ho! warder, bring in Lord Glenvarloch's baggage.” The officer obeyed. Seals had been placed upon the trunk and casket, but were now removed, the warder said, in consequence of the subsequent orders from Court, and the whole was placed at the prisoner's free disposal.

Desirous to bring this painful visit to a conclusion, Lord Glenvarloch opened the casket, and looked through the papers which it contained, first hastily, and then more slowly and accurately; but it was all in vain. The Sovereign's signed warrant had disappeared.

“I thought and expected nothing better,” said George Heriot, bitterly. “The beginning of evil is the letting out of water. Here is a fair heritage lost, I dare say, on a foul cast at dice, or a conjuring trick at cards!—My lord,