Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume VI Part 10

"No," answered the housekeeper, with a kick of her head, which Geordie took as a sign that his bait had been swallowed; "I am not Lady Maitland--I am in de charge of her ladys.h.i.+p's house. Vat you vant vit her ladys.h.i.+p? Can Louise Grecourt not satisfy a fellow like you?"

"No exactly at present," answered Geordie; "tell her leddys.h.i.+p that Geordie Willison wants to speak to her."

Louise started when he mentioned his name, certifying Geordie that she was in the secret of his knowledge. Her manner changed. She became all condescension; and, leading him up stairs, opened a door, and showed him into a room where Lady Maitland was sitting.

"I houp yer leddys.h.i.+p," began Geordie, with a low bow, "has been quite weel sin' I had the honour o' yer acquaintances.h.i.+p, whilk is now a year, come twa o'clock o' this day. Ye micht maybe be thinking we were gaun to fa' out o' acquaintances.h.i.+p; but I'm no ane o' yer conceited creatures wha despise auld freends, and rin after new anes, merely because they may think them brawer--sae ye may keep yer mind easy on that score; and I wad farther tak the liberty to a.s.sure yer leddys.h.i.+p that, if ye hae ony siller by ye at present, I winna hesitate to gie ye a proof o' the continuance o' my freends.h.i.+p, by offerin' to tak frae ye as meikle as I may need."

"How much is that?" asked Lady Maitland.

"t.w.u.n.ty pund, my leddy, t.w.u.n.ty pund," answered Geordie.

The money was handed to him by the lady, without saying a word; and, having again made a low bow, he departed.

Next year, Geordie Willison went and paid a visit to Lady Maitland, got from her the same sum of money, and nothing pa.s.sed to indicate what it was paid for. The lady clearly remained under the impression that the child was not in existence.

It happened that, some time after the last payment, Geordie was on the pier of Leith, with a view to fall in with some chance message or carriage to Edinburgh. A vessel had newly arrived from the Continent, and one of the pa.s.sengers was Sir Marmaduke Maitland. Geordie was employed to a.s.sist in getting his luggage removed to Edinburgh. On arriving at the house, Lady Maitland, with Louise behind her, was standing on the landing-place to receive her husband. They saw Geordie walking alongside of him, and talking to him in the familiar manner which his alleged silliness in many cases ent.i.tled him to do; but whatever they may have felt or expressed, by looks or otherwise, Geordie seemed not to be any way out of his ordinary manner, and they soon observed, from the conduct of Sir Marmaduke, that Geordie had said nothing to him. Geordie bustled about, a.s.sisting to take out the luggage, while Sir Marmaduke was standing in the lobby with his lady alongside of him.

"Is there any news stirring in these parts, Geordie, worth telling to one who has been from his own country so long as I have been."

"Naething worth mentioning, Sir Marmaduke," answered Geordie; "a'thing quiet, decent, and orderly i' the toun and i' the country--no excepting your ain house here, whar I hae missed mony a gude luck-penny sin' your honour departed."

"Has Lady Maitland not been in the habit of employing you, then, Geordie?" asked Sir Marmaduke.

"No exactly, Sir Marmaduke," answered Geordie; "the last time I ca'ed on her leddys.h.i.+p, she asked me what I wanted. I didna think it quite ceevil, and I haena gane back; but I canna deny that she paid me handsomely for the last thing I carried for her. She's a fine leddy, Sir Marmaduke, and meikle credit to ye."

At any subsequent period, when Geordie's yearly pension was due, he generally contrived to call for Lady Maitland when Sir Marmaduke was out of the way. He took always the same amount of money. The only departure he made from this custom was in the year of his sister's marriage, when he asked and got a sum of forty pounds, twenty of which he gave to her.

Her husband, George Dempster, had at one time been a butler in Lady Maitland's family; but her ladys.h.i.+p did not know either that he was acquainted with George Willison, or that he was now married to his sister. We may explain that George Dempster was in the family at the time when Geordie brought home the child; and, in some of his conversations with his wife, he did not hesitate to say that he suspected that Lady Maitland bore a child to a French lackey, who was then about the house; but the child never made its appearance, and strong grounds existed for believing that it was made away with. Geordie himself sometimes heard these stories; but he affected to be altogether indifferent to them, putting a silly question to Dempster, as if he had just awakened from sleep, and had forgot the thread of the discourse, and, when he got his answer, pretending to fall asleep again.

In the meantime the young foundling, who had been christened Jessie Warriston, by Geordie's desire, grew up to womanhood. She became, in every respect, the picture of her mother--tall and n.o.ble in her appearance. Her hair was jet black, and her eye partook of the same colour, with a l.u.s.tre that dazzled the beholder. Her manners were cheerful and kind; and she was grateful for the most ordinary attentions paid to her by Widow Willison, or her daughter--the latter of whom often took her out with her to the house of Ludovic Brodie, commonly called Birkiehaugh, a nephew of Sir Marmaduke Maitland, with whom George Dempster was serving as butler, in his temporary house, about a mile south from Edinburgh.

This young laird had seen Jessie Warriston, and been struck with her n.o.ble appearance. He asked Dempster who she was, and was told that she was a young person who lived with one of his wife's friends. Brodie, whose character was that of a most unprincipled rake, often endeavoured to make up to Jessie, as she went backwards and forwards between his house and Widow Willison's. In all endeavours he had been unsuccessful; for Jessie--independently of being aware, from the admonitions of the pious Widow Willison, that an acquaintances.h.i.+p with a person above her degree was improper and dangerous--had a lover of her own, a young man of the name of William Forbes, a clerk to Mr. Carstairs, an advocate, at that time in great practice at the Scotch bar. Forbes generally accompanied Jessie when she went out at night, after she told him that Brodie had insulted her; and she discontinued her visits to George Dempster.

Foiled by the precautions which Jessie took to avoid him, Brodie only became more determined to get his object gratified. He meditated various schemes for this purpose. He turned off Dempster, who might have been a spy upon his conduct; and it was remarked, by the people living near to Widow Willison's, that a woman, rolled up in a cloak, had been seen watching about the door. Geordie, though apparently not listening to any of these transactions, was all alive to the interests of his foundling.

He kept a constant eye upon the neighbourhood, and did not fail to observe, that a woman, of the description stated, came always, at a certain hour, near his mother's door, about the time that Jessie generally went out.

Now, Geordie was determined to know, by some means, who this woman was; and, as the day was drawing in, he thought he might disguise himself in such a way as to get into conversation with her.

Having equipped himself in the garb of a cadie, of more respectable appearance than he himself exhibited, and put a black patch over his eye, and a broad slouched hat over his head, Geordie took his station to watch the woman in the cloak.

"Wha may ye be waitin' for?" said Geordie, in a feigned voice, to the woman, whom he at last found.

"Are you von of de cadies?" asked the woman.

"Yes," answered Geordie.

"Do you live in de neighbourhood?" asked again the woman.

"I wadna live in ony ither place war ye to pay me for't," answered Geordie.

"Very good--dat is a very good answer," said the woman; "dere is a little money for you."

"I dinna tak siller for tellin' folk whar I live," said Geordie; "but, if there's onything else I can, in my capacity o' cadie, do for ye, maybe I may then condescend to tak yer siller."

"_Mon Dieu!_ vat a trange fellow!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the woman. "Vell, can you tell me if a young woman, carrying the name of Jessie Varriston, lives up dat stair?" pointing with her hand.

"I ken the la.s.sie as weel as I ken mysel," answered Geordie; "she lives just whar ye hae said."

"Very goot--very goot--dat is just vat I vant--_un sage homme_ dis--excellent goot chap. Now, tell me if de girl lives vit an imbecile that is von idiot, called George Villison, and how long she has lived vit him, vere she comes from, and vat is her history."

"Ye hae asked four questions a' in ae breath," said Geordie, who wanted a prologue, to give him time to consider how much he could say, so as to serve the two purposes of safety and drawing out the woman at the same time. "It's no quite fair, to an ignorant man like me, to put sae mony questions at a time; but it's my wish to serve ye, an' I'll do my best to answer them. Jessie Warriston lives wi' the idiot cratur Geordie Willison's mither, and she has lived wi' her for seventeen years, that is, since she was a bit bairn. I'm thinking she'll be a granddochter o'

Widow Willison's--dinna ye think sae yersel'?"

"De brute!" muttered the woman to herself--"de brute is begun, like all de rest of his countrymen, to put de interrogation ven he should give de respond. You do not know den de girl's history, do you not?"

"No, but maybe I may be able to get it for ye," answered Geordie, unwilling to be dismissed _simpliciter_.

"Very vell, anoter time--I vish you, in de meantime, to carry dis letter to Ludovic Brodie, Esq. of Birkiehaugh. Do you know vere he lives?"

"I will carry it wi' the greatest o' pleasure, madam," answered Geordie.

The woman handed him the letter, with some more money, and departed.

Geordie got the letter speedily read to him by a person in his confidence. It was in these terms:--

"Mon cher Ludovic,--Jessie Varriston lives vit de idiot, Geordie Villison, in Leit Vynd. De bearer of dis knows her very vell, and vill a.s.sist you in de abduction. My Lady Maitland and I both tink we know her too; bot we do not vish at present to let any von know dis, for certain reasons, vich we cannot explain to you. Ven you arrange vit de bearer to carry her off, let me know, and I vill do every ting in my power to a.s.sist you, as my lady has a grand vish for de abduction of de vench vithout procrastination. My lady does not know of my having given you intelligence of her being up to de affair.--Yours till death.

"LOUISE GRECOURT."

From this letter, Geordie saw plainly that Lady Maitland and Louise had, at last, got some information regarding Jessie, which had led them to suspect that she was the child they had supposed to be dead. It was clear, however, that Brodie knew nothing of their suspicions, and the two parties were, undoubtedly, after the same game, with different objects and for different reasons. Having folded the letter and sealed it, so as to avoid suspicion, Geordie went out and delivered it into the hands of Birkiehaugh.

Brodie, having read the letter, examined Geordie from head to heel--"Canst thou be trusted, man, in an affair requiring secrecy and ability to execute it?" asked he.

"Do you see ony thing aboot me to produce ony doubt o' my ability or my secrecy?" answered Geordie. "Nae man will coup wi' Peter Finlayson in ony expedition whar death, danger, or exposure are to be avoided, or whar ability to plan, an' quickness to execute, and cunnin' to conceal, are things o' consideration or importance."

"Well, Peter, I believe thou art the man. I wish to carry off the girl, Jessie Warriston, to-morrow night--canst thou a.s.sist me in that enterprise?"

"It's just in the like o' thae bits o' ploys that the genius o' Peter Finlayson lies," answered Geordie. "I ken the la.s.sie maist intimately, and can bring her to ony appointed spot at ony hour ye please to name."

"To-morrow night, then," said Brodie, "at eight o'clock, at the resting-stone at the top of the Leith Lone; knowest thou the place?"

"I do," answered Geordie; "and shall attend; but ye ken, I suppose, the difference that lies atween the ordinary jobs o' us cadies, and the like o' thae michty emprises, whar life and limb, and honour and reputation, are concerned. In the first case, the pay comes after the wark--in the ither, the wark comes after the pay; an' it's richt natural, whan ye think o't; because I hae often seen the city guard kick the wark and the warkmen to the deevil in an instant, and the puir cadie gets only broken banes for his pains."

"There, then," said Brodie, "there is half of thy fee; the other shall be given when thou bringest the girl."

"Vera weel," said Geordie, counting the gold pieces; "and thank ye. I wunna fail in my duty, I warrant ye."

Next night, at the time and place appointed, Geordie attended with his charge. He found Brodie in waiting with a carriage, in which was seated Louise. Jessie was told to enter, and complied. Brodie jumped in, and Geordie held out his hand for the other half of the fee, which he received. He now slipped a piece of twine round the handle of the carriage, so as to prevent it from being opened; and, in a moment vaulted up beside the coachman, whose hat, as if by mere accident, he knocked off.

"Gie me up my bannet, ye whelp," said the coachman, angrily.