The Heart of Mid-Lothian, Volume 2

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH.

  I did send for thee, That Talbot's name might be in thee revived, When sapless age and weak, unable limbs, Should bring thy father to his drooping chair. But--O malignant and ill-boding stars!-- First part of Henry the Sixth.

  Duncan and his party had not proceeded very far in the direction of theCaird's Cove before they heard a shot, which was quickly followed by oneor two others. "Some tamn'd villains among the roe-deer," said Duncan;"look sharp out, lads."

  The clash of swords was next heard, and Duncan and his myrmidons,hastening to the spot, found Butler and Sir George Staunton's servant inthe hands of four ruffians. Sir George himself lay stretched on theground, with his drawn sword in his hand. Duncan, who was as brave as alion, instantly fired his pistol at the leader of the band, unsheathedhis sword, cried out to his men, _Claymore!_ and run his weapon throughthe body of the fellow whom he had previously wounded, who was no otherthau Donacha dhu na Dunaigh himself. The other banditti were speedilyoverpowered, excepting one young lad, who made wonderful resistance forhis years, and was at length secured with difficulty.

  Death of Sir George Staunton--404]

  Butler, so soon as he was liberated from the ruffians, ran to raise SirGeorge Staunton, but life had wholly left him.

  "A creat misfortune," said Duncan; "I think it will pe pest that I goforward to intimate it to the coot lady.--Tavie, my dear, you hae smelledpouther for the first time this day--take my sword and hack off Donacha'shead, whilk will pe coot practice for you against the time you may wishto do the same kindness to a living shentleman--or hould! as your fatherdoes not approve, you may leave it alone, as he will pe a greater objectof satisfaction to Leddy Staunton to see him entire; and I hope she willdo me the credit to pelieve that I can afenge a shentleman's plood feryspeedily and well."

  Such was the observation of a man too much accustomed to the ancientstate of manners in the Highlands, to look upon the issue of such askirmish as anything worthy of wonder or emotion.

  We will not attempt to describe the very contrary effect which theunexpected disaster produced upon Lady Staunton, when the bloody corpseof her husband was brought to the house, where she expected to meet himalive and well. All was forgotten, but that he was the lover of heryouth; and whatever were his faults to the world, that he had towards herexhibited only those that arose from the inequality of spirits andtemper, incident to a situation of unparalleled difficulty. In thevivacity of her grief she gave way to all the natural irritability of hertemper; shriek followed shriek, and swoon succeeded to swoon. It requiredall Jeanie's watchful affection to prevent her from making known, inthese paroxysms of affliction, much which it was of the highestimportance that she should keep secret.

  At length silence and exhaustion succeeded to frenzy, and Jeanie stoleout to take counsel with her husband, and to exhort him to anticipate theCaptain's interference, by taking possession, in Lady Staunton's name, ofthe private papers of her deceased husband. To the utter astonishment ofButler, she now, for the first time, explained the relation betwixtherself and Lady Staunton, which authorised, nay, demanded, that heshould prevent any stranger from being unnecessarily made acquainted withher family affairs. It was in such a crisis that Jeanie's active andundaunted habits of virtuous exertion were most conspicuous. While theCaptain's attention was still engaged by a prolonged refreshment, and avery tedious examination, in Gaelic and English, of all the prisoners,and every other witness of the fatal transaction, she had the body of herbrother-in-law undressed and properly disposed. It then appeared, fromthe crucifix, the beads, and the shirt of hair which he wore next hisperson, that his sense of guilt had induced him to receive the dogmata ofa religion, which pretends, by the maceration of the body, to expiate thecrimes of the soul. In the packet of papers which the express had broughtto Sir George Staunton from Edinburgh, and which Butler, authorised byhis connection with the deceased, did not scruple to examine, he foundnew and astonishing intelligence, which gave him reason to thank God hehad taken that measure.

  Ratcliffe, to whom all sorts of misdeeds and misdoers were familiar,instigated by the promised reward, soon found himself in a condition totrace the infant of these unhappy parents. The woman to whom MegMurdockson had sold that most unfortunate child, had made it thecompanion of her wanderings and her beggary, until he was about seven oreight years old, when, as Ratcliffe learned from a companion of hers,then in the Correction House of Edinburgh, she sold him in her turn toDonacha dhu na Dunaigh. This man, to whom no act of mischief was unknown,was occasionally an agent in a horrible trade then carried on betwixtScotland and America, for supplying the plantations with servants, bymeans of _kidnapping,_ as it was termed, both men and women, butespecially children under age. Here Ratcliffe lost sight of the boy, buthad no doubt but Donacha Dhu could give an account of him. The gentlemanof the law, so often mentioned, despatched therefore an express, with aletter to Sir George Staunton, and another covering a warrant forapprehension of Donacha, with instructions to the Captain of Knockdunderto exert his utmost energy for that purpose.

  Possessed of this information, and with a mind agitated by the mostgloomy apprehensions, Butler now joined the Captain, and obtained fromhim with some difficulty a sight of the examinations. These, with a fewquestions to the elder of the prisoners, soon confirmed the most dreadfulof Butler's anticipations. We give the heads of the information, withoutdescending into minute details.

  Donacha Dhu had indeed purchased Effie's unhappy child, with the purposeof selling it to the American traders, whom he had been in the habit ofsupplying with human flesh. But no opportunity occurred for some time;and the boy, who was known by the name of "The Whistler," made someimpression on the heart and affections even of this rude savage, perhapsbecause he saw in him flashes of a spirit as fierce and vindictive as hisown. When Donacha struck or threatened him--a very common occurrence--hedid not answer with complaints and entreaties like other children, butwith oaths and efforts at revenge--he had all the wild merit, too, bywhich Woggarwolfe's arrow-bearing page won the hard heart of his master:

  Like a wild cub, rear'd at the ruffian's feet, He could say biting jests, bold ditties sing, And quaff his foaming bumper at the board, With all the mockery of a little man.*

  * Ethwald.

  In short, as Donacha Dhu said, the Whistler was a born imp of Satan, and_therefore_ he should never leave him. Accordingly, from his eleventhyear forward, he was one of the band, and often engaged in acts ofviolence. The last of these was more immediately occasioned by theresearches which the Whistler's real father made after him whom he hadbeen taught to consider as such. Donacha Dhu's fears had been for sometime excited by the strength of the means which began now to be employedagainst persons of his description. He was sensible he existed only bythe precarious indulgence of his namesake, Duncan of Knockdunder, who wasused to boast that he could put him down or string him up when he had amind. He resolved to leave the kingdom by means of one of those sloopswhich were engaged in the traffic of his old kidnapping friends, andwhich was about to sail for America; but he was desirous first to strikea bold stroke.

  The ruffian's cupidity was excited by the intelligence, that a wealthyEnglishman was coming to the Manse--he had neither forgotten theWhistler's report of the gold he had seen in Lady Staunton's purse, norhis old vow of revenge against the minister; and, to bring the whole to apoint, he conceived the hope of appropriating the money, which, accordingto the general report of the country, the minister was to bring fromEdinburgh to pay for his pew purchase. While he was considering how hemight best accomplish his purpose, he received the intelligence from onequarter, that the vessel in which he proposed to sail was to sailimmediately from Greenock; from another, that the minister and a richEnglish lord, with a great many thousand pounds, were expected the nextevening at the Manse; and from a third, that he must consult
his safetyby leaving his ordinary haunts as soon as possible, for that the Captainhad ordered out a party to scour the glens for him at break of day.Donacha laid his plans with promptitude and decision. He embarked withthe Whistler and two others of his band (whom, by the by, he meant tosell to the kidnappers), and set sail for the Caird's Cove. He intendedto lurk till nightfall in the wood adjoining to this place, which hethought was too near the habitation of men to excite the suspicion ofDuncan Knock, then break into Butler's peaceful habitation, and flesh atonce his appetite for plunder and revenge. When his villany wasaccomplished, his boat was to convey him to the vessel, which, accordingto previous agreement with the master, was instantly to set sail.

  This desperate design would probably have succeeded, but for the ruffiansbeing discovered in their lurking-place by Sir George Staunton andButler, in their accidental walk from the Caird's Cove towards the Manse.Finding himself detected, and at the same time observing that the servantcarried a casket, or strong-box, Donacha conceived that both his prizeand his victims were within his power, and attacked the travellerswithout hesitation. Shots were fired and swords drawn on both sides; SirGeorge Staunton offered the bravest resistance till he fell, as there wastoo much reason to believe, by the hand of a son, so long sought, and nowat length so unhappily met.

  While Butler was half-stunned with this intelligence, the hoarse voice ofKnockdunder added to his consternation.

  "I will take the liperty to take down the pell-ropes, Mr. Putler, as Imust pe taking order to hang these idle people up to-morrow morning, toteach them more consideration in their doings in future."

  Butler entreated him to remember the act abolishing the heritablejurisdictions, and that he ought to send them to Glasgow or Inverary, tobe tried by the Circuit. Duncan scorned the proposal.

  "The Jurisdiction Act," he said, "had nothing to do put with the rebels,and specially not with Argyle's country; and he would hang the men up allthree in one row before coot Leddy Staunton's windows, which would be agreat comfort to her in the morning to see that the coot gentleman, herhusband, had been suitably afenged."

  And the utmost length that Butler's most earnest entreaties could prevailwas, that he would, reserve "the twa pig carles for the Circuit, but asfor him they ca'd the Fustler, he should try how he could fustle in aswinging tow, for it suldna be said that a shentleman, friend to theDuke, was killed in his country, and his people didna take at least twalives for ane."

  Butler entreated him to spare the victim for his soul's sake. ButKnockdunder answered, "that the soul of such a scum had been long thetefil's property, and that, Cot tam! he was determined to gif the tefilhis due."

  All persuasion was in vain, and Duncan issued his mandate for executionon the succeeding morning. The child of guilt and misery was separatedfrom his companions, strongly pinioned, and committed to a separate room,of which the Captain kept the key.

  In the silence of the night, however, Mrs. Butler arose, resolved, ifpossible, to avert, at least to delay, the fate which hung over hernephew, especially if, upon conversing with him, she should see any hopeof his being brought to better temper. She had a master-key that openedevery lock in the house; and at midnight, when all was still, she stoodbefore the eyes of the astonished young savage, as, hard bound withcords, he lay, like a sheep designed for slaughter, upon a quantity ofthe refuse of flax which filled a corner in the apartment. Amid featuressunburnt, tawny, grimed with dirt, and obscured by his shaggy hair of arusted black colour, Jeanie tried in vain to trace the likeness of eitherof his very handsome parents. Yet how could she refuse compassion to acreature so young and so wretched,--so much more wretched than even hehimself could be aware of, since the murder he had too probably committedwith his own hand, but in which he had at any rate participated, was infact a parricide? She placed food on a table near him, raised him, andslacked the cords on his arms, so as to permit him to feed himself. Hestretched out his hands, still smeared with blood perhaps that of hisfather, and he ate voraciously and in silence.

  "What is your first name?" said Jeanie, by way of opening theconversation.

  "The Whistler."

  "But your Christian name, by which you were baptized?"

  "I never was baptized that I know of--I have no other name than theWhistler."

  "Poor unhappy abandoned lad!" said Jeanie. "What would ye do if you couldescape from this place, and the death you are to die to-morrow morning?"

  "Join wi' Rob Roy, or wi' Sergeant More Cameron" (noted freebooters atthat time), "and revenge Donacha's death on all and sundry."

  "O ye unhappy boy," said Jeanie, "do ye ken what will come o' ye when yedie?"

  "I shall neither feel cauld nor hunger more," said the youth doggedly.

  "To let him be execute in this dreadful state of mind would be to destroybaith body and soul--and to let him gang I dare not--what will be done?--But he is my sister's son--my own nephew--our flesh and blood--and hishands and feet are yerked as tight as cords can be drawn.--Whistler, dothe cords hurt you?"

  "Very much."

  "But, if I were to slacken them, you would harm me?"

  "No, I would not--you never harmed me or mine."

  There may be good in him yet, thought Jeanie; I will try fair play withhim.

  She cut his bonds--he stood upright, looked round with a laugh of wildexultation, clapped his hands together, and sprung from the ground, as ifin transport on finding himself at liberty. He looked so wild, thatJeanie trembled at what she had done.

  "Let me out," said the young savage.

  "I wunna, unless you promise"

  "Then I'll make you glad to let us both out."

  He seized the lighted candle and threw it among the flax, which wasinstantly in a flame. Jeanie screamed, and ran out of the room; theprisoner rushed past her, threw open a window in the passage, jumped intothe garden, sprung over its enclosure, bounded through the woods like adeer, and gained the seashore. Meantime, the fire was extinguished, butthe prisoner was sought in vain. As Jeanie kept her own secret, the shareshe had in his escape was not discovered: but they learned his fate sometime afterwards--it was as wild as his life had hitherto been.

  The anxious inquiries of Butler at length learned, that the youth hadgained the ship in which his master, Donacha, had designed to embark. Butthe avaricious shipmaster, inured by his evil trade to every species oftreachery, and disappointed of the rich booty which Donacha had proposedto bring aboard, secured the person of the fugitive, and havingtransported him to America, sold him as a slave, or indented servant, toa Virginian planter, far up the country. When these tidings reachedButler, he sent over to America a sufficient sum to redeem the lad fromslavery, with instructions that measures should be taken for improvinghis mind, restraining his evil propensities, and encouraging whatevergood might appear in his character. But this aid came too late. The youngman had headed a conspiracy in which his inhuman master was put to death,and had then fled to the next tribe of wild Indians. He was never moreheard of; and it may therefore be presumed that he lived and died afterthe manner of that savage people, with whom his previous habits had wellfitted him to associate.

  All hopes of the young man's reformation being now ended, Mr. and Mrs.Butler thought it could serve no purpose to explain to Lady Staunton ahistory so full of horror. She remained their guest more than a year,during the greater part of which period her grief was excessive. In thelatter months, it assumed the appearance of listlessness and low spirits,which the monotony of her sister's quiet establishment afforded no meansof dissipating. Effie, from her earliest youth, was never formed for aquiet low content. Far different from her sister, she required thedissipation of society to divert her sorrow, or enhance her joy. She leftthe seclusion of Knocktarlitie with tears of sincere affection, and afterheaping its inmates with all she could think of that might be valuable intheir eyes. But she _did_ leave it; and, when the anguish of the partingwas over, her departure was a relief to both sisters.

  The family at the Manse of Knocktarliti
e, in their own quiet happiness,heard of the well-dowered and beautiful Lady Staunton resuming her placein the fashionable world. They learned it by more substantial proofs, forDavid received a commission; and as the military spirit of Bible Butlerseemed to have revived in him, his good behaviour qualified the envy offive hundred young Highland cadets, "come of good houses," who wereastonished at the rapidity of his promotion. Reuben followed the law, androse more slowly, yet surely. Euphemia Butler, whose fortune, augmentedby her aunt's generosity, and added to her own beauty, rendered her nosmall prize, married a Highland laird, who never asked the name of hergrand-father, and was loaded on the occasion with presents from LadyStaunton, which made her the envy of all the beauties in Dumbarton andArgyle shires.

  After blazing nearly ten years in the fashionable world, and hiding, likemany of her compeers, an aching heart with a gay demeanour--afterdeclining repeated offers of the most respectable kind for a secondmatrimonial engagement, Lady Staunton betrayed the inward wound byretiring to the Continent, and taking up her abode in the convent whereshe had received her education. She never took the veil, but lived anddied in severe seclusion, and in the practice of the Roman Catholicreligion, in all its formal observances, vigils, and austerities.

  Jeanie had so much of her father's spirit as to sorrow bitterly for thisapostasy, and Butler joined in her regret. "Yet any religion, howeverimperfect," he said, "was better than cold scepticism, or the hurryingdin of dissipation, which fills the ears of worldlings, until they carefor none of these things."

  Meanwhile, happy in each other, in the prosperity of their family, andthe love and honour of all who knew them, this simple pair lived beloved,and died lamented.

  Jeanie Dean's Cottage--414]

  READER,

  THIS TALE WILL NOT BE TOLD IN VAIN, IF IT SHALL BE FOUND TO ILLUSTRATE THE GREAT TRUTH, THAT GUILT, THOUGH IT MAY ATTAIN TEMPORAL SPLENDOUR, CAN NEVER CONFER REAL HAPPINESS; THAT THE EVIL CONSEQUENCES OF OUR CRIMES LONG SURVIVE THEIR COMMISSION, AND, LIKE THE GHOSTS OF THE MURDERED, FOR EVER HAUNT THE STEPS OF THE MALEFACTOR; AND THAT THE PATHS OF VIRTUE, THOUGH SELDOM THOSE OF WORLDLY GREATNESS, ARE ALWAYS THOSE OF PLEASANTNESS AND PEACE.