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"I a.s.sure you, Hobbie," said his companion, rather angrily, "I a.s.sure you you are mistaken; and it is extremely wrong of you, either to think of, or to utter, such an idea; I have no idea of permitting freedoms to be carried so far as to connect my name with that of any young lady."
"Why, there now--there now!" retorted Elliot; "did I not say it was nae want o' s.p.u.n.k that made ye sae mim?--Weel, weel, I meant nae offence; but there's just ae thing ye may notice frae a friend. The auld Laird of Ellieslaw has the auld riding blood far hetter at his heart than ye hae--troth, he kens naething about thae newfangled notions o' peace and quietness--he's a' for the auld-warld doings o' lifting and laying on, and he has a wheen stout lads at his back too, and keeps them weel up in heart, and as fu' o' mischief as young colts. Where he gets the gear to do't nane can say; he lives high, and far abune his rents here; however, he pays his way--Sae, if there's ony out-break in the country, he's likely to break out wi' the first--and weel does he mind the auld quarrels between ye, I'm surmizing he'll be for a touch at the auld tower at Earnscliff."
"Well, Hobbie," answered the young gentleman, "if he should be so ill advised, I shall try to make the old tower good against him, as it has been made good by my betters against his betters many a day ago."
"Very right--very right--that's speaking like a man now," said the stout yeoman; "and, if sae should be that this be sae, if ye'll just gar your servant jow out the great bell in the tower, there's me, and my twa brothers, and little Davie of the Stenhouse, will be wi' you, wi' a' the power we can make, in the snapping of a flint."
"Many thanks, Hobbie," answered Earnscliff; "but I hope we shall have no war of so unnatural and unchristian a kind in our time."
"Hout, sir, hout," replied Elliot; "it wad be but a wee bit neighbour war, and Heaven and earth would make allowances for it in this uncultivated place--it's just the nature o' the folk and the land--we canna live quiet like Loudon folk--we haena sae muckle to do. It's impossible."
"Well, Hobbie," said the Laird, "for one who believes so deeply as you do in supernatural appearances, I must own you take Heaven in your own hand rather audaciously, considering where we are walking."
"What needs I care for the Mucklestane-Moor ony mair than ye do yoursell, Earnscliff?" said Hobbie, something offended; "to be sure, they do say there's a sort o' worricows and lang-nebbit things about the land, but what need I care for them? I hae a good conscience, and little to answer for, unless it be about a rant amang the la.s.ses, or a splore at a fair, and that's no muckle to speak of. Though I say it mysell, I am as quiet a lad and as peaceable--"
"And d.i.c.k Turnbull's head that you broke, and Willie of Winton whom you shot at?" said his travelling companion.
"Hout, Earnscliff, ye keep a record of a' men's misdoings--d.i.c.k's head's healed again, and we're to fight out the quarrel at Jeddart, on the Rood-day, so that's like a thing settled in a peaceable way; and then I am friends wi' Willie again, puir chield--it was but twa or three hail draps after a'. I wad let onybody do the like o't to me for a pint o'
brandy. But Willie's lowland bred, poor fallow, and soon frighted for himsell--And, for the worricows, were we to meet ane on this very bit--"
"As is not unlikely," said young Earnscliff, "for there stands your old witch, Hobbie."
"I say," continued Elliot, as if indignant at this hint--"I say, if the auld carline hersell was to get up out o' the grund just before us here, I would think nae mair--But, gude preserve us, Earnscliff; what can yon, be!"
CHAPTER III.
Brown Dwarf, that o'er the moorland strays, Thy name to Keeldar tell!
"The Brown Man of the Moor, that stays Beneath the heather-bell."--JOHN LEYDEN
The object which alarmed the young farmer in the middle of his valorous protestations, startled for a moment even his less prejudiced companion.
The moon, which had arisen during their conversation, was, in the phrase of that country, wading or struggling with clouds, and shed only a doubtful and occasional light. By one of her beams, which streamed upon the great granite column to which they now approached, they discovered a form, apparently human, but of a size much less than ordinary, which moved slowly among the large grey stones, not like a person intending to journey onward, but with the slow, irregular, flitting movement of a being who hovers around some spot of melancholy recollection, uttering also, from time to time, a sort of indistinct muttering sound. This so much resembled his idea of the motions of an apparition, that Hobbie Elliot, making a dead pause, while his hair erected itself upon his scalp, whispered to his companion, "It's Auld Ailie hersell! Shall I gie her a shot, in the name of G.o.d?"
"For Heaven's sake, no," said his companion, holding down the weapon which he was about to raise to the aim--"for Heaven's sake, no; it's some poor distracted creature."
"Ye're distracted yoursell, for thinking of going so near to her," said Elliot, holding his companion in his turn, as he prepared to advance.
"We'll aye hae time to pit ower a bit prayer (an I could but mind ane) afore she comes this length--G.o.d! she's in nae hurry," continued he, growing bolder from his companion's confidence, and the little notice the apparition seemed to take of them. "She hirples like a hen on a het girdle. I redd ye, Earnscliff" (this he added in a gentle whisper), "let us take a cast about, as if to draw the wind on a buck--the bog is no abune knee-deep, and better a saft road as bad company." [The Scots use the epithet soft, IN MALAM PARTEM, in two cases, at least. A SOFT road is a road through quagmire and bogs; and SOFT weather signifies that which is very rainy.]
Earnscliff, however, in spite of his companion's resistance and remonstrances, continued to advance on the path they had originally pursued, and soon confronted the object of their investigation.
The height of the figure, which appeared even to decrease as they approached it, seemed to be under four feet, and its form, as far as the imperfect light afforded them the means of discerning, was very nearly as broad as long, or rather of a spherical shape, which could only be occasioned by some strange personal deformity. The young sportsman hailed this extraordinary appearance twice, without receiving any answer, or attending to the pinches by which his companion endeavoured to intimate that their best course was to walk on, without giving farther disturbance to a being of such singular and preternatural exterior. To the third repeated demand of "Who are you? What do you here at this hour of night?"--a voice replied, whose shrill, uncouth, and dissonant tones made Elliot step two paces back, and startled even his companion, "Pa.s.s on your way, and ask nought at them that ask nought at you."
"What do you do here so far from shelter? Are you benighted on your journey? Will you follow us home ('G.o.d forbid!' e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Hobbie Elliot, involuntarily), and I will give you a lodging?"
"I would sooner lodge by mysell in the deepest of the Tarras-flow,"
again whispered Hobbie.
"Pa.s.s on your way," rejoined the figure, the harsh tones of his voice still more exalted by pa.s.sion. "I want not your guidance--I want not your lodging--it is five years since my head was under a human roof, and I trust it was for the last time."
"He is mad," said Earnscliff.
"He has a look of auld Humphrey Ettercap, the tinkler, that perished in this very moss about five years syne," answered his superst.i.tious companion; "but Humphrey wasna that awfu' big in the bouk."
"Pa.s.s on your way," reiterated the object of their curiosity, "the breath of your human bodies poisons the air around me--the sound of pour human voices goes through my ears like sharp bodkins."
"Lord safe us!" whispered Hobbie, "that the dead should bear sie fearfu'
ill-will to the living!--his saul maun be in a puir way, I'm jealous."
"Come, my friend," said Earnscliff, "you seem to suffer under some strong affliction; common humanity will not allow us to leave you here."
"Common humanity!" exclaimed the being, with a scornful laugh that sounded like a shriek, "where got ye that catch-word--that noose for woodc.o.c.ks--that common disguise for man-traps--that bait which the wretched idiot who swallows, will soon find covers a hook with barbs ten times sharper than those you lay for the animals which you murder for your luxury!"
"I tell you, my friend," again replied Earnscliff, "you are incapable of judging of your own situation--you will perish in this wilderness, and we must, in compa.s.sion, force you along with us."
"I'll hae neither hand nor foot in't," said Hobbie; "let the ghaist take his ain way, for G.o.d's sake!"
"My blood be on my own head, if I perish here," said the figure; and, observing Earnscliff meditating to lay hold on him, he added, "And your blood be upon yours, if you touch but the skirt of my garments, to infect me with the taint of mortality!"
The moon shone more brightly as he spoke thus, and Earnscliff observed that he held out his right hand armed with some weapon of offence, which glittered in the cold ray like the blade of a long knife, or the barrel of a pistol. It would have been madness to persevere in his attempt upon a being thus armed, and holding such desperate language, especially as it was plain he would have little aid from his companion, who had fairly left him to settle matters with the apparition as he could, and had proceeded a few paces on his way homeward. Earnscliff, however, turned and followed Hobbie, after looking back towards the supposed maniac, who, as if raised to frenzy by the interview, roamed wildly around the great stone, exhausting his voice in shrieks and imprecations, that thrilled wildly along the waste heath.
The two sportsmen moved on some time in silence, until they were out of hearing of these uncouth sounds, which was not ere they had gained a considerable distance from the pillar that gave name to the moor. Each made his private comments on the scene they had witnessed, until Hobbie Elliot suddenly exclaimed, "Weel, I'll uphaud that yon ghaist, if it be a ghaist, has baith done and suffered muckle evil in the flesh, that gars him rampauge in that way after he is dead and gane."
"It seems to me the very madness of misanthropy," said Earnscliff; following his own current of thought.
"And ye didna think it was a spiritual creature, then?" asked Hobbie at his companion.
"Who, I?--No, surely."
"Weel, I am partly of the mind mysell that it may be a live thing--and yet I dinna ken, I wadna wish to see ony thing look liker a bogle."
"At any rate," said Earnscliff, "I will ride over to-morrow and see what has become of the unhappy being."
"In fair daylight?" queried the yeoman; "then, grace o' G.o.d, I'se be wi' ye. But here we are nearer to Heugh-foot than to your house by twa mile,--hadna ye better e'en gae hame wi' me, and we'll send the callant on the powny to tell them that you are wi' us, though I believe there's naebody at hame to wait for you but the servants and the cat."
"Have with you then, friend Hobbie," said the young hunter; "and as I would not willingly have either the servants be anxious, or puss forfeit her supper, in my absence, I'll be obliged to you to send the boy as you propose."
"Aweel, that IS kind, I must say. And ye'll gae hame to Heugh-foot?
They'll be right blithe to see you, that will they."
This affair settled, they walked briskly on a little farther, when, coming to the ridge of a pretty steep hill, Hobbie Elliot exclaimed, "Now, Earnscliff, I am aye glad when I come to this very bit--Ye see the light below, that's in the ha' window, where grannie, the gash auld carline, is sitting birling at her wheel--and ye see yon other light that's gaun whiddin' back and forrit through amang the windows? that's my cousin, Grace Armstrong,--she's twice as clever about the house as my sisters, and sae they say themsells, for they're good-natured la.s.ses as ever trode on heather; but they confess themsells, and sae does grannie, that she has far maist action, and is the best goer about the toun, now that grannie is off the foot hersell.--My brothers, ane o' them's away to wait upon the chamberlain, and ane's at Moss-phadraig, that's our led farm--he can see after the stock just as weel as I can do."
"You are lucky, my good friend, in having so many valuable relations."
"Troth am I--Grace make me thankful, I'se never deny it.--But will ye tell me now, Earnscliff, you that have been at college, and the high-school of Edinburgh, and got a' sort o' lair where it was to be best gotten--will ye tell me--no that it's ony concern of mine in particular,--but I heard the priest of St. John's, and our minister, bargaining about it at the Winter fair, and troth they baith spak very weel--Now, the priest says it's unlawful to marry ane's cousin; but I cannot say I thought he brought out the Gospel authorities half sae weel as our minister--our minister is thought the best divine and the best preacher atween this and Edinburgh--Dinna ye think he was likely to be right?"
"Certainly marriage, by all protestant Christians, is held to be as free as G.o.d made it by the Levitical law; so, Hobbie, there can be no bar, legal or religious, betwixt you and Miss Armstrong."