CHAPTER XIX.
Who's that that rings the bell? Diablos, ho! The town will rise.
Othello, Act II. Scene III.
The wild rumours which flew through the town, speedily followed by thetolling of the alarm bells spread general consternation. The noblesand knights, with their followers, gathered in different places ofrendezvous, where a defence could best be maintained; and the alarmreached the royal residence where the young prince was one of the firstto appear, to assist, if necessary, in the defence of the old king. Thescene of the preceding night ran in his recollection; and, rememberingthe bloodstained figure of Bonthron, he conceived, though indistinctly,that the ruffian's action had been connected with this uproar. Thesubsequent and more interesting discourse with Sir John Ramorny had,however, been of such an impressive nature as to obliterate alltraces of what he had vaguely heard of the bloody act of the assassin,excepting a confused recollection that some one or other had been slain.It was chiefly on his father's account that he had assumed arms with hishousehold train, who, clad in bright armour, and bearing lances intheir hands, made now a figure very different from that of the precedingnight, when they appeared as intoxicated Bacchanalians. The kind oldmonarch received this mark of filial attachment with tears of gratitude,and proudly presented his son to his brother Albany, who entered shortlyafterwards. He took them each by the hand.
"Now are we three Stuarts," he said, "as inseparable as the holytrefoil; and, as they say the wearer of that sacred herb mocks atmagical delusion, so we, while we are true to each other, may set maliceand enmity at defiance."
The brother and son kissed the kind hand which pressed theirs, whileRobert III expressed his confidence in their affection. The kiss of theyouth was, for the time, sincere; that of the brother was the salute ofthe apostate Judas.
In the mean time the bell of St. John's church alarmed, amongst others,the inhabitants of Curfew Street. In the house of Simon Glover, oldDorothy Glover, as she was called (for she also took name from the tradeshe practised, under her master's auspices), was the first to catch thesound. Though somewhat deaf upon ordinary occasions, her ear for badnews was as sharp as a kite's scent for carrion; for Dorothy, otherwisean industrious, faithful, and even affectionate creature, had thatstrong appetite for collecting and retailing sinister intelligence whichis often to be marked in the lower classes. Little accustomed to belistened to, they love the attention which a tragic tale ensures to thebearer, and enjoy, perhaps, the temporary equality to which misfortunereduces those who are ordinarily accounted their superiors. Dorothy hadno sooner possessed herself of a slight packet of the rumours which wereflying abroad than she bounced into her master's bedroom, who had takenthe privilege of age and the holytide to sleep longer than usual.
"There he lies, honest man," said Dorothy, half in a screeching and halfin a wailing tone of sympathy--"there he lies; his best friend slain,and he knowing as little about it as the babe new born, that kens notlife from death."
"How now!" said the glover, starting up out of his bed. "What is thematter, old woman? Is my daughter well?"
"Old woman!" said Dorothy, who, having her fish hooked, chose to let himplay a little. "I am not so old," said she, flouncing out of the room,"as to bide in the place till a man rises from his naked bed--"
And presently she was heard at a distance in the parlour beneath,melodiously singing to the scrubbing of her own broom.
"Dorothy--screech owl--devil--say but my daughter is well!"
"I am well, my father," answered the Fair Maid of Perth, speaking fromher bedroom, "perfectly well, but what, for Our Lady's sake, is thematter? The bells ring backward, and there is shrieking and crying inthe streets."
"I will presently know the cause. Here, Conachar, come speedily andtie my points. I forgot--the Highland loon is far beyond Fortingall.Patience, daughter, I will presently bring you news."
"Ye need not hurry yourself for that, Simon Glover," quoth the obdurateold woman; "the best and the worst of it may be tauld before you couldhobble over your door stane. I ken the haill story abroad; 'for,'thought I, 'our goodman is so wilful that he'll be for banging out tothe tuilzie, be the cause what it like; and sae I maun e'en stir myshanks, and learn the cause of all this, or he will hae his auld nose inthe midst of it, and maybe get it nipt off before he knows what for.'"
"And what is the news, then, old woman?" said the impatient glover,still busying himself with the hundred points or latchets which were themeans of attaching the doublet to the hose.
Dorothy suffered him to proceed in his task till she conjectured it mustbe nearly accomplished; and foresaw that; if she told not the secretherself, her master would be abroad to seek in person for the cause ofthe disturbance. She, therefore, halloo'd out: "Aweel--aweel, ye cannasay it is me fault, if you hear ill news before you have been atthe morning mass. I would have kept it from ye till ye had heard thepriest's word; but since you must hear it, you have e'en lost the truestfriend that ever gave hand to another, and Perth maun mourn for thebravest burgher that ever took a blade in hand!"
"Harry Smith! Harry Smith!" exclaimed the father and the daughter atonce.
"Oh, ay, there ye hae it at last," said Dorothy; "and whose fault was itbut your ain? ye made such a piece of work about his companying with aglee woman, as if he had companied with a Jewess!"
Dorothy would have gone on long enough, but her master exclaimed tohis daughter, who was still in her own apartment: "It is nonsense,Catharine--all the dotage of an old fool. No such thing has happened.I will bring you the true tidings in a moment," and snatching up hisstaff, the old man hurried out past Dorothy and into the street, wherethe throng of people were rushing towards the High Street.
Dorothy, in the mean time, kept muttering to herself: "Thy father is awise man, take his ain word for it. He will come next by some scathein the hobbleshow, and then it will be, 'Dorothy, get the lint,' and'Dorothy, spread the plaster;' but now it is nothing but nonsense, anda lie, and impossibility, that can come out of Dorothy's mouth.Impossible! Does auld Simon think that Harry Smith's head was as hard ashis stithy, and a haill clan of Highlandmen dinging at him?"
Here she was interrupted by a figure like an angel, who came wanderingby her with wild eye, cheek deadly pale, hair dishevelled, and anapparent want of consciousness, which terrified the old woman out of herdiscontented humour.
"Our Lady bless my bairn!" said she. "What look you sae wild for?"
"Did you not say some one was dead?" said Catharine, with a frightfuluncertainty of utterance, as if her organs of speech and hearing servedher but imperfectly.
"Dead, hinny! Ay--ay, dead eneugh; ye'll no hae him to gloom at onymair."
"Dead!" repeated Catharine, still with the same uncertainty of voice andmanner. "Dead--slain--and by Highlanders?"
"I'se warrant by Highlanders, the lawless loons. Wha is it else thatkills maist of the folks about, unless now and than when the burgherstake a tirrivie, and kill ane another, or whiles that the knights andnobles shed blood? But I'se uphauld it's been the Highlandmen this bout.The man was no in Perth, laird or loon, durst have faced Henry Smithman to man. There's been sair odds against him; ye'll see that when it'slooked into."
"Highlanders!" repeated Catharine, as if haunted by some idea whichtroubled her senses. "Highlanders! Oh, Conachar--Conachar!"
"Indeed, and I dare say you have lighted on the very man, Catharine.They quarrelled, as you saw, on the St. Valentine's Even, and had awarstle. A Highlandman has a long memory for the like of that. Gie hima cuff at Martinmas, and his cheek will be tingling at Whitsunday. Butwhat could have brought down the lang legged loons to do their bloodywark within burgh?"
"Woe's me, it was I," said Catharine--"it was I brought the Highlandersdown--I that sent for Conachar--ay, they have lain in wait--but it was Ithat brought them within reach of their prey. But I will see with my owneyes--and then--something we will do. Say to my father I will be backanon."
"Are ye distraught, lassie?" shout
ed Dorothy, as Catharine made past hertowards the street door. "You would not gang into the street with thehair hanging down your haffets in that guise, and you kenn'd for theFair Maid of Perth? Mass, but she's out in the street, come o't whatlike, and the auld Glover will be as mad as if I could withhold her,will she nill she, flyte she fling she. This is a brave morning for anAsh Wednesday! What's to be done? If I were to seek my master among themultitude, I were like to be crushed beneath their feet, and little moanmade for the old woman. And am I to run after Catharine, who ere this isout of sight, and far lighter of foot than I am? so I will just down thegate to Nicol Barber's, and tell him a' about it."
While the trusty Dorothy was putting her prudent resolve into execution,Catharine ran through the streets of Perth in a manner which at anothermoment would have brought on her the attention of every one who saw herhurrying on with a reckless impetuosity wildly and widely different fromthe ordinary decency and composure of her step and manner, and withoutthe plaid, scarf, or mantle which "women of good," of fair characterand decent rank, universally carried around them, when they went abroad.But, distracted as the people were, every one inquiring or tellingthe cause of the tumult, and most recounting it different ways,the negligence of her dress and discomposure of her manner made noimpression on any one; and she was suffered to press forward on the pathshe had chosen without attracting more notice than the other femaleswho, stirred by anxious curiosity or fear, had come out to inquire thecause of an alarm so general--it might be to seek for friends for whosesafety they were interested.
As Catharine passed along, she felt all the wild influence of theagitating scene, and it was with difficulty she forbore from repeatingthe cries of lamentation and alarm which were echoed around her. In themean time, she rushed rapidly on, embarrassed like one in a dream, witha strange sense of dreadful calamity, the precise nature of which shewas unable to define, but which implied the terrible consciousness thatthe man who loved her so fondly, whose good qualities she so highlyesteemed, and whom she now felt to be dearer than perhaps she wouldbefore have acknowledged to her own bosom, was murdered, and mostprobably by her means. The connexion betwixt Henry's supposed death andthe descent of Conachar and his followers, though adopted by her in amoment of extreme and engrossing emotion, was sufficiently probableto have been received for truth, even if her understanding had beenat leisure to examine its credibility. Without knowing what she soughtexcept the general desire to know the worst of the dreadful report, shehurried forward to the very spot which of all others her feelings of thepreceding day would have induced her to avoid.
Who would, upon the evening of Shrovetide, have persuaded the proud, thetimid, the shy, the rigidly decorous Catharine Glover that before masson Ash Wednesday she should rush through the streets of Perth, makingher way amidst tumult and confusion, with her hair unbound and her dressdisarranged, to seek the house of that same lover who, she had reason tobelieve, had so grossly and indelicately neglected and affronted her asto pursue a low and licentious amour? Yet so it was; and her eagernesstaking, as if by instinct, the road which was most free, she avoided theHigh Street, where the pressure was greatest, and reached the wynd bythe narrow lanes on the northern skirt of the town, through which HenrySmith had formerly escorted Louise. But even these comparatively lonelypassages were now astir with passengers, so general was the alarm.Catharine Glover made her way through them, however, while such asobserved her looked on each other and shook their heads in sympathy withher distress. At length, without any distinct idea of her own purpose,she stood before her lover's door and knocked for admittance.
The silence which succeeded the echoing of her hasty summons increasedthe alarm which had induced her to take this desperate measure.
"Open--open, Henry!" she cried. "Open, if you yet live! Open, if youwould not find Catharine Glover dead upon your threshold!"
As she cried thus frantically to ears which she was taught to believewere stopped by death, the lover she invoked opened the door in person,just in time to prevent her sinking on the ground. The extremity of hisecstatic joy upon an occasion so unexpected was qualified only by thewonder which forbade him to believe it real, and by his alarm at theclosed eyes, half opened and blanched lips, total absence of complexion,and apparently total cessation of breathing.
Henry had remained at home, in spite of the general alarm, which hadreached his ears for a considerable time, fully determined to puthimself in the way of no brawls that he could avoid; and it was only incompliance with a summons from the magistrates, which, as a burgher, hewas bound to obey, that, taking his sword and a spare buckler from thewall, he was about to go forth, for the first time unwillingly, to payhis service, as his tenure bound him.
"It is hard," he said, "to be put forward in all the town feuds, whenthe fighting work is so detestable to Catharine. I am sure there areenough of wenches in Perth that say to their gallants, 'Go out, do yourdevoir bravely, and win your lady's grace'; and yet they send not fortheir lovers, but for me, who cannot do the duties of a man to protecta minstrel woman, or of a burgess who fights for the honour of histown, but this peevish Catharine uses me as if I were a brawler andbordeller!"
Such were the thoughts which occupied his mind, when, as he opened hisdoor to issue forth, the person dearest to his thoughts, but whom hecertainly least expected to see, was present to his eyes, and droppedinto his arms.
His mixture of surprise, joy, and anxiety did not deprive him of thepresence of mind which the occasion demanded. To place CatharineGlover in safety, and recall her to herself was to be thought ofbefore rendering obedience to the summons of the magistrates, howeverpressingly that had been delivered. He carried his lovely burden, aslight as a feather, yet more precious than the same quantity of purestgold, into a small bedchamber which had been his mother's. It was themost fit for an invalid, as it looked into the garden, and was separatedfrom the noise of the tumult.
"Here, Nurse--Nurse Shoolbred--come quick--come for death and life--hereis one wants thy help!"
Up trotted the old dame. "If it should but prove any one that will keepthee out of the scuffle," for she also had been aroused by the noise;but what was her astonishment when, placed in love and reverence onthe bed of her late mistress, and supported by the athletic arms of herfoster son, she saw the apparently lifeless form of the Fair Maid ofPerth.
"Catharine Glover!" she said; "and, Holy Mother, a dying woman, as itwould seem!"
"Not so, old woman," said her foster son: "the dear heart throbs--thesweet breath comes and returns! Come thou, that may aid her more meetlythan I--bring water--essences--whatever thy old skill can devise. Heavendid not place her in my arms to die, but to live for herself and me!"
With an activity which her age little promised, Nurse Shoolbredcollected the means of restoring animation; for, like many women of theperiod, she understood what was to be done in such cases, nay, possesseda knowledge of treating wounds of an ordinary description, which thewarlike propensities of her foster son kept in pretty constant exercise.
"Come now," she said, "son Henry, unfold your arms from about mypatient, though she is worth the pressing, and set thy hands at freedomto help me with what I want. Nay, I will not insist on your quittingher hand, if you will beat the palm gently, as the fingers unclose theirclenched grasp."
"I beat her slight, beautiful hand!" said Henry; "you were as well bidme beat a glass cup with a forehammer as tap her fair palm with my hornhard fingers. But the fingers do unfold, and we will find a better waythan beating"; and he applied his lips to the pretty hand, whose motionindicated returning sensation. One or two deep sighs succeeded, andthe Fair Maid of Perth opened her eyes, fixed them on her lover, ashe kneeled by the bedside, and again sunk back on the pillow. As shewithdrew not her hand from her lover's hold or from his grasp, we mustin charity believe that the return to consciousness was not so completeas to make her aware that he abused the advantage, by pressing italternately to his lips and his bosom. At the same time we are compelledto own that
the blood was colouring in her cheek, and that her breathingwas deep and regular, for a minute or two during this relapse.
The noise at the door began now to grow much louder, and Henry wascalled for by all his various names of Smith. Gow, and Hal of the Wynd,as heathens used to summon their deities by different epithets. At last,like Portuguese Catholics when exhausted with entreating their saints,the crowd without had recourse to vituperative exclamations.
"Out upon you, Henry! You are a disgraced man, man sworn to your burgheroath, and a traitor to the Fair City, unless you come instantly forth!"
It would seem that nurse Shoolbred's applications were now so farsuccessful that Catharine's senses were in some measure restored; for,turning her face more towards that of her lover than her former posturepermitted, she let her right hand fall on his shoulder, leaving her leftstill in his possession, and seeming slightly to detain him, while shewhispered: "Do not go, Henry--stay with me; they will kill thee, thesemen of blood."
It would seem that this gentle invocation, the result of finding thelover alive whom she expected to have only recognised as a corpse,though it was spoken so low as scarcely to be intelligible, had moreeffect to keep Henry Wynd in his present posture than the repeatedsummons of many voices from without had to bring him downstairs.
"Mass, townsmen," cried one hardy citizen to his companions, "the saucysmith but jests with us! Let us into the house, and bring him out by thelug and the horn."
"Take care what you are doing," said a more cautious assailant. "The manthat presses on Henry Gow's retirement may go into his house with soundbones, but will return with ready made work for the surgeon. But herecomes one has good right to do our errand to him, and make the recreanthear reason on both sides of his head."
The person of whom this was spoken was no other than Simon Gloverhimself. He had arrived at the fatal spot where the unlucky bonnetmaker's body was lying, just in time to discover, to his great relief,that when it was turned with the face upwards by Bailie Craigdallie'sorders, the features of the poor braggart Proudfute were recognised,when the crowd expected to behold those of their favorite champion,Henry Smith. A laugh, or something approaching to one, went among thosewho remembered how hard Oliver had struggled to obtain the characterof a fighting man, however foreign to his nature and disposition, andremarked now that he had met with a mode of death much better suitedto his pretensions than to his temper. But this tendency to ill timedmirth, which savoured of the rudeness of the times, was at once hushedby the voice, and cries, and exclamations of a woman who struggledthrough the crowd, screaming at the same time, "Oh, my husband--myhusband!"
Room was made for the sorrower, who was followed by two or three femalefriends. Maudie Proudfute had been hitherto only noticed as a goodlooking, black haired woman, believed to be "dink" and disdainful tothose whom she thought meaner or poorer than herself, and lady andempress over her late husband, whom she quickly caused to lower hiscrest when she chanced to hear him crowing out of season. But now,under the influence of powerful passion, she assumed a far more imposingcharacter.
"Do you laugh," she said, "you unworthy burghers of Perth, because oneof your own citizens has poured his blood into the kennel? or do youlaugh because the deadly lot has lighted on my husband? How has hedeserved this? Did he not maintain an honest house by his own industry,and keep a creditable board, where the sick had welcome and the poor hadrelief? Did he not lend to those who wanted, stand by his neighbours asa friend, keep counsel and do justice like a magistrate?"
"It is true--it is true," answered the assembly; "his blood is our bloodas much as if it were Henry Gow's."
"You speak truth, neighbours," said Bailie Craigdallie; "and this feudcannot be patched up as the former was: citizen's blood must not flowunavenged down our kennels, as if it were ditch water, or we shall soonsee the broad Tay crimsoned with it. But this blow was never meant forthe poor man on whom it has unhappily fallen. Every one knew what OliverProudfute was, how wide he would speak, and how little he would do. Hehas Henry Smith's buff coat, target, and head piece. All the town knowthem as well as I do: there is no doubt on't. He had the trick, as youknow, of trying to imitate the smith in most things. Some one, blindwith rage, or perhaps through liquor, has stricken the innocent bonnetmaker, whom no man either hated or feared, or indeed cared either muchor little about, instead of the stout smith, who has twenty feuds uponhis hands."
"What then, is to be done, bailie?" cried the multitude.
"That, my friends, your magistrates will determine for you, as we shallinstantly meet together when Sir Patrick Charteris cometh here, whichmust be anon. Meanwhile, let the chirurgeon Dwining examine that poorpiece of clay, that he may tell us how he came by his fatal death; andthen let the corpse be decently swathed in a clean shroud, as becomesan honest citizen, and placed before the high altar in the church ofSt. John, the patron of the Fair City. Cease all clamour and noise, andevery defensible man of you, as you would wish well to the Fair Town,keep his weapons in readiness, and be prepared to assemble on the HighStreet at the tolling of the common bell from the townhouse, and we willeither revenge the death of our fellow citizen, or else we shall takesuch fortune as Heaven will send us. Meanwhile avoid all quarrellingWith the knights and their followers till we know the innocent from theguilty. But wherefore tarries this knave Smith? He is ready enoughin tumults when his presence is not wanted, and lags he now when hispresence may serve the Fair City? What ails him, doth any one know? Hathhe been upon the frolic last Fastern's Even?"
"Rather he is sick or sullen, Master Bailie," said one of the city'smairs, or sergeants; "for though he is within door, as his knavesreport, yet he will neither answer to us nor admit us."
"So please your worship, Master Bailie," said Simon Glover, "I will gomyself to fetch Henry Smith. I have some little difference to make upwith him. And blessed be Our Lady, who hath so ordered it that I findhim alive, as a quarter of an hour since I could never have expected!"
"Bring the stout smith to the council house," said the bailie, as amounted yeoman pressed through the crowd and whispered in his ear, "Hereis a good fellow who says the Knight of Kinfauns is entering the port."
Such was the occasion of Simon Glover presenting himself at the house ofHenry Gow at the period already noticed.
Unrestrained by the considerations of doubt and hesitation whichinfluenced others, he repaired to the parlour; and having overheard thebustling of Dame Shoolbred, he took the privilege of intimacy to ascendto the bedroom, and, with the slight apology of "I crave your pardon,good neighbour," he opened the door and entered the apartment, where asingular and unexpected sight awaited him. At the sound of his voice,May Catharine experienced a revival much speedier than Dame Shoolbred'srestoratives had been able to produce, and the paleness of hercomplexion changed into a deep glow of the most lovely red. She pushedher lover from her with both her hands, which, until this minute, herwant of consciousness, or her affection, awakened by the events of themorning, had well nigh abandoned to his caresses. Henry Smith, bashfulas we know him, stumbled as he rose up; and none of the party werewithout a share of confusion, excepting Dame Shoolbred, who was gladto make some pretext to turn her back to the others, in order that shemight enjoy a laugh at their expense, which she felt herself utterlyunable to restrain, and in which the glover, whose surprise, thoughgreat, was of short duration, and of a joyful character, sincerelyjoined.
"Now, by good St. John," he said, "I thought I had seen a sight thismorning that would cure me of laughter, at least till Lent was over;but this would make me curl my cheek if I were dying. Why, here standshonest Henry Smith, who was lamented as dead, and toll'd out for fromevery steeple in town, alive, merry, and, as it seems from his ruddycomplexion, as like to live as any man in Perth. And here is my preciousdaughter, that yesterday would speak of nothing but the wickedness ofthe wights that haunt profane sports and protect glee maidens. Ay,she who set St. Valentine and St. Cupid both at defiance--here she is,turned a glee maiden herself,
for what I can see! Truly, I am glad tosee that you, my good Dame Shoolbred, who give way to no disorder, havebeen of this loving party."
"You do me wrong, my dearest father," said Catharine, as if about toweep. "I came here with far different expectations than you suppose. Ionly came because--because--"
"Because you expected to find a dead lover," said her father, "and youhave found a living one, who can receive the tokens of your regard, andreturn them. Now, were it not a sin, I could find in my heart to thankHeaven that thou hast been surprised at last into owning thyself awoman. Simon Glover is not worthy to have an absolute saint for hisdaughter. Nay, look not so piteously, nor expect condolence from me!Only I will try not to look merry, if you will be pleased to stop yourtears, or confess them to be tears of joy."
"If I were to die for such a confession," said poor Catharine, "I couldnot tell what to call them. Only believe, dear father, and let Henrybelieve, that I would never have come hither; unless--unless--"
"Unless you had thought that Henry could not come to you," said herfather. "And now, shake hands in peace and concord, and agree asValentines should. Yesterday was Shrovetide, Henry; We will hold thatthou hast confessed thy follies, hast obtained absolution, and artrelieved of all the guilt thou stoodest charged with."
"Nay touching that, father Simon," said the smith, "now that you arecool enough to hear me, I can swear on the Gospels, and I can call mynurse, Dame Shoolbred, to witness--"
"Nay--nay," said the glover, "but wherefore rake up differences whichshould all be forgotten?"
"Hark ye, Simon!--Simon Glover!" This was now echoed from beneath.
"True, son Smith," said the glover, seriously, "we have other work inhand. You and I must to the council instantly. Catharine shall remainhere with Dame Shoolbred, who will take charge of her till we return;and then, as the town is in misrule, we two, Harry, will carry her home,and they will be bold men that cross us."
"Nay, my dear father," said Catharine, with a smile, "now you are takingOliver Proudfute's office. That doughty burgher is Henry's brother atarms."
Her father's countenance grew dark.
"You have spoke a stinging word, daughter; but you know not what hashappened. Kiss him, Catharine, in token of forgiveness."
"Not so," said Catharine; "I have done him too much grace already. Whenhe has seen the errant damsel safe home, it will be time enough to claimhis reward."
"Meantime," said Henry, "I will claim, as your host, what you will notallow me on other terms."
He folded the fair maiden in his arms, and was permitted to take thesalute which she had refused to bestow.
As they descended the stair together, the old man laid his hand on thesmith's shoulder, and said: "Henry, my dearest wishes are fulfilled;but it is the pleasure of the saints that it should be in an hour ofdifficulty and terror."
"True," said the smith; "but thou knowest, father, if our riots befrequent at Perth, at least they seldom last long."
Then, opening a door which led from the house into the smithy, "here,comrades," he cried, "Anton, Cuthbert, Dingwell, and Ringen! Let none ofyou stir from the place till I return. Be as true as the weapons I havetaught you to forge: a French crown and a Scotch merrymaking for you, ifyou obey my command. I leave a mighty treasure in your charge. Watchthe doors well, let little Jannekin scout up and down the wynd, and haveyour arms ready if any one approaches the house. Open the doors to noman till father Glover or I return: it concerns my life and happiness."
The strong, swarthy giants to whom he spoke answered: "Death to him whoattempts it!"
"My Catharine is now as safe," said he to her father, "as if twenty mengarrisoned a royal castle in her cause. We shall pass most quietly tothe council house by walking through the garden."
He led the way through a little orchard accordingly, where the birds,which had been sheltered and fed during the winter by the good naturedartisan, early in the season as it was, were saluting the precarioussmiles of a February sun with a few faint and interrupted attempts atmelody.
"Hear these minstrels, father," said the smith; "I laughed at them thismorning in the bitterness of my heart, because the little wretches sung,with so much of winter before them. But now, methinks, I could bear ablythe chorus, for I have my Valentine as they have theirs; and whateverill may lie before me for tomorrow, I am today the happiest man inPerth, city or county, burgh or landward."
"Yet I must allay your joy," said the old glover, "though, Heaven knows,I share it. Poor Oliver Proudfute, the inoffensive fool that you and Iknew so well, has been found this morning dead in the streets."
"Only dead drunk, I trust?" said the smith; "nay, a candle and a dose ofmatrimonial advice will bring him to life again."
"No, Henry--no. He is slain--slain with a battle axe or some suchweapon."
"Impossible!" replied the smith; "he was light footed enough, and wouldnot for all Perth have trusted to his hands, when he could extricatehimself by his heels."
"No choice was allowed him. The blow was dealt in the very back of hishead; he who struck must have been a shorter man than himself, and useda horseman's battle axe, or some such weapon, for a Lochaber axe musthave struck the upper part of his head. But there he lies dead, brained,I may say, by a most frightful wound."
"This is inconceivable," said Henry Wynd. "He was in my house atmidnight, in a morricer's habit; seemed to have been drinking, thoughnot to excess. He told me a tale of having been beset by revellers,and being in danger; but, alas! you know the man--I deemed it was aswaggering fit, as he sometimes took when he was in liquor; and, may theMerciful Virgin forgive me! I let him go without company, in which I didhim inhuman wrong. Holy St. John be my witness! I would have gone withany helpless creature; and far more with him, with whom I have so oftensat at the same board and drunken of the same cup. Who, of the raceof man, could have thought of harming a creature so simple and sounoffending, excepting by his idle vaunts?"
"Henry, he wore thy head piece, thy buff coat; thy target. How came heby these?"
"Why, he demanded the use of them for the night, and I was ill at ease,and well pleased to be rid of his company, having kept no holiday, andbeing determined to keep none, in respect of our misunderstanding."
"It is the opinion of Bailie Craigdallie and all our sagest counsellorsthat the blow was intended for yourself, and that it becomes you toprosecute the due vengeance of our fellow citizen, who received thedeath which was meant for you."
The smith was for some time silent. They had now left the garden, andwere walking in a lonely lane, by which they meant to approach thecouncil house of the burgh without being exposed to observation or idleinquiry.
"You are silent, my son, yet we two have much to speak of," said SimonGlover. "Bethink thee that this widowed woman, Maudlin, if she shouldsee cause to bring a charge against any one for the wrong done to herand her orphan children, must support it by a champion, according tolaw and custom; for, be the murderer who he may, we know enough of thesefollowers of the nobles to be assured that the party suspected willappeal to the combat, in derision, perhaps, of we whom they will callthe cowardly burghers. While we are men with blood in our veins, thismust not be, Henry Wynd."
"I see where you would draw me, father," answered Henry, dejectedly,"and St. John knows I have heard a summons to battle as willingly as warhorse ever heard the trumpet. But bethink you, father, how I have lostCatharine's favour repeatedly, and have been driven well nigh to despairof ever regaining it, for being, if I may say so, even too ready a manof my hands. And here are all our quarrels made up, and the hopes thatseemed this morning removed beyond earthly prospect have becomenearer and brighter than ever; and must I with the dear one's kiss offorgiveness on my lips, engage in a new scene of violence, which you arewell aware will give her the deepest offence?"
"It is hard for me to advise you, Henry," said Simon; "but this I mustask you: Have you, or have you not, reason to think that this poorunfortunate Oliver has been mistaken for you?"
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p; "I fear it too much," said Henry. "He was thought something like me, andthe poor fool had studied to ape my gestures and manner of walking,nay the very airs which I have the trick of whistling, that he mightincrease a resemblance which has cost him dear. I have ill willersenough, both in burgh and landward, to owe me a shrewd turn; and he, Ithink, could have none such."
"Well, Henry, I cannot say but my daughter will be offended. She hasbeen much with Father Clement, and has received notions about peace andforgiveness which methinks suit ill with a country where the laws cannotprotect us, unless we have spirit to protect ourselves. If you determinefor the combat, I will do my best to persuade her to look on the matteras the other good womanhood in the burgh will do; and if you resolve tolet the matter rest--the man who has lost his life for yours remainingunavenged, the widow and the orphans without any reparation for the lossof a husband and father--I will then do you the justice to think that I,at least, ought not to think the worse of you for your patience, sinceit was adopted for love of my child. But, Henry, we must in that caseremove ourselves from bonny St. Johnston, for here we will be but adisgraced family."
Henry groaned deeply, and was silent for an instant, then replied: "Iwould rather be dead than dishonoured, though I should never see heragain! Had it been yester evening, I would have met the best blade amongthese men at arms as blythely as ever I danced at a maypole. But today,when she had first as good as said, 'Henry Smith, I love thee!' FatherGlover; it is very hard. Yet it is all my own fault. This poor unhappyOliver! I ought to have allowed him the shelter of my roof, when heprayed me in his agony of fear; or; had I gone with him, I should thenhave prevented or shared his fate. But I taunted him, ridiculed him,loaded him with maledictions, though the saints know they were utteredin idle peevishness of impatience. I drove him out from my doors, whom Iknew so helpless, to take the fate which was perhaps intended for me.I must avenge him, or be dishonoured for ever. See, father, I have beencalled a man hard as the steel I work in. Does burnished steel ever droptears like these? Shame on me that I should shed them!"
"It is no shame, my dearest son," said Simon; "thou art as kind asbrave, and I have always known it. There is yet a chance for us. No onemay be discovered to whom suspicion attaches, and where none such isfound, the combat cannot take place. It is a hard thing to wish that theinnocent blood may not be avenged. But if the perpetrator of this foulmurder be hidden for the present, thou wilt be saved from the taskof seeking that vengeance which Heaven doubtless will take at its ownproper time."
As they spoke thus, they arrived at the point of the High Street wherethe council house was situated. As they reached the door, and madetheir way through the multitude who thronged the street, they found theavenues guarded by a select party of armed burghers, and about fiftyspears belonging to the Knight of Kinfauns, who, with his alliesthe Grays, Blairs, Moncrieffs, and others, had brought to Perth aconsiderable body of horse, of which these were a part. So soon as theglover and smith presented themselves, they were admitted to the chamberin which the magistrates were assembled.