The Bride of Lammermoor by Walter Scott (highly recommended books TXT) 📕

visitors; and the old dame, who had formerly lived in Ravenswood Castle, and knew, as she said, the ways of the nobility, was in no whit wanting in arranging matters, as well as circumstances permitted, according to the etiquette of the times. The cooper’s house was so roomy that each guest had his separate retiring-room, to which they were ushered with all due ceremony, while the plentiful supper was in the act of being placed upon the table.

Ravenswood no sooner found himself alone than, impelled by a thousand feelings, he left the apartment, the house, and the village, and hastily retraced his steps to the brow of the hill, which rose betwixt the village and screened it from the tower, in order to view the final fall of the house of his fathers. Some idle boys from the hamlet had taken the same direction out of curiosity, having first witnessed the arrival of the coach and six and its attendants. As they ran one by one past the Master, calling to each other to “Come and see the auld tower blaw up in the lift like the peelings of an ingan,” he could not but feel himself moved with indignation. “And these are the sons of my father’s vassals,” he said—“of men bound, both by law and gratitude, to follow our steps through battle, and fire, and flood; and now the destruction of their liege lord’s house is but a holiday’s sight to them.”

These exasperating reflections were partly expressed in the acrimony with which he exclaimed, on feeling himself pulled by the cloak: “What do you want, you dog?”

“I am a dog, and an auld dog too,” answered Caleb, for it was he who had taken the freedom, “and I am like to get a dog’s wages; but it does not signification a pinch of sneesing, for I am ower auld a dog to learn new tricks, or to follow a new master.”

As he spoke, Ravenswood attained the ridge of the hill from which Wolf’s Crag was visible; the flames had entirely sunk down, and, to his great surprise, there was only a dusky reddening upon the clouds immediately over the castle, which seemed the reflection of the embers of the sunken fire.

“The place cannot have blown up,” said the Master; “we must have heard the report: if a quarter of the gunpowder was there you tell me of, it would have been heard twenty miles off.”

“It’ve very like it wad,” said Balderstone, composedly.

“Then the fire cannot have reached the vaults?”

“It’s like no,” answered Caleb, with the same impenetrable gravity.

“Hark ye, Caleb,” said his master, “this grows a little too much for my patience. I must go and examine how matters stand at Wolf’s Crag myself.”

“Your honour is ganging to gang nae sic gate,” said Caleb, firmly.

“And why not?” said Ravenswood, sharply; “who or what shall prevent me?”

“Even I mysell,” said Caleb, with the same determination.

“You, Balderstone!” replied the Master; “you are forgetting yourself, I think.”

“But I think no,” said Balderstone; “for I can just tell ye a’ about the castle on this knowe-head as weel as if ye were at it. Only dinna pit yoursell into a kippage, and expose yoursell before the weans, or before the Marquis, when ye gang down-bye.”

“Speak out, you old fool,” replied his master, “and let me know the best and the worst at once.”

“Ou, the best and the warst is, just that the tower is standing hail and feir, as safe and as empty as when ye left it.”

“Indeed! and the fire?” said Ravenswood.

“Not a gleed of fire, then, except the bit kindling peat, and maybe a spunk in Mysie’s cutty-pipe,” replied Caleb.

“But the flame?” demanded Ravenswood—“the broad blaze which might have been seen ten miles off—what occasioned that?”

“Hout awa’! it’s an auld saying and a true—

Little’s the light
Will be seen far in a mirk night.

A wheen fern and horse little that I fired in the courtyard, after sending back the loon of a footman; and, to speak Heaven’s truth, the next time that ye send or bring ony body here, let them ge gentles allenarly, without ony fremd servants, like that chield Lockhard, to be gledging and gleeing about, and looking upon the wrang side of ane’s housekeeping, to the discredit of the family, and forcing ane to damn their souls wi’ telling ae lee after another faster than I can count them: I wad rather set fire to the tower in gude earnest, and burn it ower my ain head into the bargain, or I see the family dishonoured in the sort.”

“Upon my word, I am infinitely obliged by the proposal, Caleb,” said his master, scarce able to restrain his laughter, though rather angry at the same time. “But the gunpowder—is there such a thing in the tower? The Marquis seemed to know of it.”

“The pouther, ha! ha! ha!—the Marquis, ha! ha! ha!” replied Caleb,—“if your honour were to brain me, I behooved to laugh,—the Marquis—the pouther! Was it there? Ay, it was there. Did he ken o’t? My certie! the Marquis kenn’d o’t, and it was the best o’ the game; for, when I couldna pacify your honour wi’ a’ that I could say, I aye threw out a word mair about the gunpouther, and garr’d the Marquis tak the job in his ain hand.”

“But you have not answered my question,” said the Master, impatiently; “how came the powder there, and where is it now?”

“Ou, it came there, an ye maun needs ken,” said Caleb, looking mysteriously, and whispering, “when there was like to be a wee bit rising here; and the Marquis, and a’ the great lords of the north, were a’ in it, and mony a gudely gun and broadsword were ferried ower frae Dunkirk forbye the pouther. Awfu’ work we had getting them into the tower under cloud o’ night, for ye maun think it wasna everybody could be trusted wi’ sic kittle jobs. But if ye will gae hame to your supper, I will tell you a’ about it as ye gang down.”

“And these wretched boys,” said Ravenswood, “is it your pleasure they are to sit there all night, to wait for the blowing up of a tower that is not even on fire?”

“Surely not, if it is your honour’s pleasure that they suld gang hame; although,” added Caleb, “it wanda do them a grain’s damage: they wad screigh less the next day, and sleep the sounder at e’en. But just as your honour likes.”

Stepping accordingly towards the urchins who manned the knolls near which they stood, Caleb informed them, in an authoritative tone, that their honours Lord Ravenswood and the Marquis of A—— had given orders that the tower was not to be blow up till next day at noon. The boys dispersed upon this comfortable assurance. One or two, however, followed Caleb for more information, particularly the urchin whom he had cheated while officiating as turnspit, who screamed, “Mr. Balderstone!—Mr. Balderstone! then the castle’s gane out like an auld wife’s spunk?”

“To be sure it is, callant,” said the butler; “do ye think the castle of as great a lord as Lord Ravenswood wad continue in a bleeze, and him standing looking on wi’ his ain very een? It’s aye right,” continued Caleb, shaking off his ragged page, and closing in to his Master, “to train up weans, as the wise man says, in the way they should go, and, aboon a’, to teach them respect to their superiors.”

“But all this while, Caleb, you have never told me what became of the arms and powder,” said Ravenswood.

“Why, as for the arms,” said Caleb, “it was just like the bairn’s rhyme—

Some gaed east and some gaed west,
And some gaed to the craw’s nest.

And for the pouther, I e’en changed it, as occasion served, with the skippers o’ Dutch luggers and French vessels, for gin and brandy, and is served the house mony a year—a gude swap too, between what cheereth the soul of man and that which hingeth it clean out of his body; forbye, I keepit a wheen pounds of it for yoursell when ye wanted to take the pleasure o’ shooting: whiles, in these latter days, I wad hardly hae kenn’d else whar to get pouther for your pleasure. And now that your anger is ower, sir, wasna that weel managed o’ me, and arena ye far better sorted doun yonder than ye could hae been in your ain auld ruins up-bye yonder, as the case stands wi’ us now? the mair’s the pity!”

“I believe you may be right, Caleb; but, before burning down my castle, either in jest or in earnest,” said Ravenswood, “I think I had a right to be in the secret.”

“Fie for shame, your honour!” replied Caleb; “it fits an auld carle like me weel eneugh to tell lees for the credit of the family, but it wanda beseem the like o’ your honour’s sell; besides, young folk are no judicious: they cannot make the maist of a bit figment. Now this fire—for a fire it sall be, if I suld burn the auld stable to make it mair feasible—this fire, besides that it will be an excuse for asking ony thing we want through the country, or doun at the haven—this fire will settle mony things on an honourable footing for the family’s credit, that cost me telling twenty daily lees to a wheen idle chaps and queans, and, what’s waur, without gaining credence.”

“That was hard indeed, Caleb; but I do not see how this fire should help your veracity or your credit.”

“There it is now?” said Caleb; “wasna I saying that young folk had a green judgment? How suld it help me, quotha? It will be a creditable apology for the honour of the family for this score of years to come, if it is weel guided. ‘Where’s the family pictures?’ says ae meddling body. ‘The great fire at Wolf’s Crag,’ answers I. ‘Where’s the family plate?’ says another. ‘The great fire,’ says I; ‘wha was to think of plate, when life and limb were in danger?’ ‘Where’s the wardrobe and the linens?—where’s the tapestries and the decorements?—beds of state, twilts, pands and testors, napery and broidered wark?’ ‘The fire—the fire—the fire.’ Guide the fire weel, and it will serve ye for a’ that ye suld have and have not; and, in some sort, a gude excuse is better than the things themselves; for they maun crack and wear out, and be consumed by time, whereas a gude offcome, prudently and creditably handled, may serve a nobleman and his family, Lord kens how lang!”

Ravenswood was too well acquainted with his butler’s pertinacity and self-opinion to dispute the point with him any farther. Leaving Caleb, therefore, to the enjoyment of his own successful ingenuity, he returned to the hamlet, where he found the Marquis and the good women of the mansion under some anxiety—the former on account of his absence, the others for the discredit their cookery might sustain by the delay of the supper. All were now at ease, and heard with pleasure that the fire at the castle had burned out of itself without reaching the vaults, which was the only information that Ravenswood thought it proper to give in public concerning the event of his butler’s strategem.

They sat down to an excellent supper. No invitation could prevail on Mr. and Mrs. Girder, even in their own house, to sit down at table with guests of such high quality. They remained standing in the apartment, and acted the part of respectful and careful attendants on the company. Such were the manners of the time. The elder dame, confident through her age and connexion with the Ravenswood family, was less scrupulously ceremonious. She played a mixed part betwixt that of the hostess of an inn and the mistress of a private house, who receives guests above her own degree. She recommended, and even pressed, what she thought best, and was herself easily entreated to take a moderate share of the good cheer, in order to encourage her guests by her own example. Often she interrupted herself, to express her regret that “my lord did not eat; that the Master was pyking a bare bane; that, to be sure, there was naething there fit to set before their honours; that Lord Allan, rest his saul, used to like a pouthered guse, and said it was Latin for a tass o’ brandy; that the brandy came frae France direct; for, for a’ the English laws and gaugers, the Wolf’s Hope brigs handa forgotten the gate to Dunkirk.”

Here the cooper admonished his mother-in-law with his elbow, which procured him the following special notice in the progress of her speech:

“Ye needna be dunshin that gate, John,” continued the old lady; “naebody says that ye ken whar the brandy comes frae; and it wanda be fitting