CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH.
Happy thou art! then happy be, Nor envy me my lot; Thy happy state I envy thee, And peaceful cot. Lady Charlotte Campbell.
The letter, which Mrs. Butler, when retired into her own apartment,perused with anxious wonder, was certainly from Effie, although it had noother signature than the letter E.; and although the orthography, style,and penmanship, were very far superior not only to anything which Effiecould produce, who, though a lively girl, had been a remarkably carelessscholar, but even to her more considerate sister's own powers ofcomposition and expression. The manuscript was a fair Italian hand,though something stiff and constrained--the spelling and the diction thatof a person who had been accustomed to read good composition, and mix ingood society.
The tenor of the letter was as follows:--
"My Dearest Sister,--At many risks I venture to write to you, to informyou that I am still alive, and, as to worldly situation, that I rankhigher than I could expect or merit. If wealth, and distinction, and anhonourable rank, could make a woman happy, I have them all; but you,Jeanie, whom the world might think placed far beneath me in all theserespects, are far happier than I am. I have had means of hearing of yourwelfare, my dearest Jeanie, from time to time--I think I should havebroken my heart otherwise. I have learned with great pleasure of yourincreasing family. We have not been worthy of such a blessing; twoinfants have been successively removed, and we are now childless--God'swill be done! But, if we had a child, it would perhaps divert him fromthe gloomy thoughts which make him terrible to himself and others. Yet donot let me frighten you, Jeanie; he continues to be kind, and I am farbetter off than I deserve. You will wonder at my better scholarship; butwhen I was abroad, I had the best teachers, and I worked hard, because myprogress pleased him. He is kind, Jeanie, only he has much to distresshim, especially when he looks backward. When I look backward myself, Ihave always a ray of comfort: it is in the generous conduct of a sister,who forsook me not when I was forsaken by every one. You have had yourreward. You live happy in the esteem and love of all who know you, and Idrag on the life of a miserable impostor, indebted for the marks ofregard I receive to a tissue of deceit and lies, which the slightestaccident may unravel. He has produced me to his friends, since the estateopened to him, as a daughter of a Scotchman of rank, banished on accountof the Viscount of Dundee's wars--that is, our Fr's old friend Clavers,you know--and he says I was educated in a Scotch convent; indeed, I livedin such a place long enough to enable me to support the character. Butwhen a countryman approaches me, and begins to talk, as they all do, ofthe various families engaged in Dundee's affair, and to make inquiriesinto my connections, and when I see his eye bent on mine with such anexpression of agony, my terror brings me to the very risk of detection.Good-nature and politeness have hitherto saved me, as they preventedpeople from pressing on me with distressing questions. But how long--Ohow long, will this be the case!--And if I bring this disgrace on him, hewill hate me--he will kill me, for as much as he loves me; he is asjealous of his family honour now, as ever he was careless about it. Ihave been in England four months, and have often thought of writing toyou; and yet, such are the dangers that might arise from an interceptedletter, that I have hitherto forborne. But now I am obliged to run therisk. Last week I saw your great friend, the D. of A. He came to my box,and sate by me; and something in the play put him in mind ofyou--Gracious Heaven! he told over your whole London journey to all whowere in the box, but particularly to the wretched creature who was theoccasion of it all. If he had known--if he could have conceived, besidewhom he was sitting, and to whom the story was told!--I suffered withcourage, like an Indian at the stake, while they are rending his fibresand boring his eyes, and while he smiles applause at each well-imaginedcontrivance of his torturers. It was too much for me at last, Jeanie--Ifainted; and my agony was imputed partly to the heat of the place, andpartly to my extreme sensibility; and, hypocrite all over, I encouragedboth opinions--anything but discovery! Luckily, _he_ was not there. Butthe incident has more alarms. I am obliged to meet your great man often;and he seldom sees me without talking of E. D. and J. D., and R. B. andD. D., as persons in whom my amiable sensibility is interested. Myamiable sensibility!!!--And then the cruel tone of light indifferencewith which persons in the fashionable world speak together on the mostaffecting subjects! To hear my guilt, my folly, my agony, the foibles andweaknesses of my friends--even your heroic exertions, Jeanie, spoken ofin the drolling style which is the present tone in fashionablelife--Scarce all that I formerly endured is equal to this state ofirritation--then it was blows and stabs--now it is pricking to deathwith needles and pins.--He--I mean the D.--goes down next month to spendthe shooting-season in Scotland--he says, he makes a point of alwaysdining one day at the Manse--be on your guard, and do not betrayyourself, should he mention me--Yourself, alas! _you_ have nothing tobetray--nothing to fear; you, the pure, the virtuous, the heroine ofunstained faith, unblemished purity, what can you have to fear from theworld or its proudest minions? It is E. whose life is once more in yourhands--it is E. whom you are to save from being plucked of her borrowedplumes, discovered, branded, and trodden down, first by him, perhaps,who has raised her to this dizzy pinnacle!--The enclosure will reach youtwice a-year--do not refuse it--it is out of my own allowance, and maybe twice as much when you want it. With you it may do good--with me itnever can.
"Write to me soon, Jeanie, or I shall remain in the agonisingapprehension that this has fallen into wrong hands--Address simply to L.S., under cover, to the Reverend George Whiterose, in the Minster-Close,York. He thinks I correspond with some of my noble Jacobite relations whoare in Scotland. How high-church and jacobitical zeal would burn in hischecks, if he knew he was the agent, not of Euphemia Setoun, of thehonourable house of Winton, but of E. D., daughter of a Cameroniancowfeeder!--Jeanie, I can laugh yet sometimes--but God protect you fromsuch mirth.--My father--I mean your father, would say it was like theidle crackling of thorns; but the thorns keep their poignancy, theyremain unconsumed. Farewell, my dearest Jeanie--Do not show this even toMr. Butler, much less to any one else. I have every respect for him, buthis principles are over strict, and my case will not endure severehandling.--I rest your affectionate sister, E."
In this long letter there was much to surprise as well as to distressMrs. Butler. That Effie--her sister Effie, should be mingling freely insociety, and apparently on not unequal terms, with the Duke of Argyle,sounded like something so extraordinary, that she even doubted if sheread truly. Not was it less marvellous, that, in the space of four years,her education should have made such progress. Jeanie's humility readilyallowed that Effie had always, when she chose it, been smarter at herbook than she herself was, but then she was very idle, and, upon thewhole, had made much less proficiency. Love, or fear, or necessity,however, had proved an able school-mistress, and completely supplied allher deficiencies.
What Jeanie least liked in the tone of the letter, was a smothered degreeof egotism. "We should have heard little about her," said Jeanie toherself, "but that she was feared the Duke might come to learn wha shewas, and a' about her puir friends here; but Effie, puir thing, aye looksher ain way, and folk that do that think mair o' themselves than of theirneighbours.--I am no clear about keeping her siller," she added, takingup a L50 note which had fallen out of the paper to the floor. "We haeeneugh, and it looks unco like theftboot, or hushmoney, as they ca' it;she might hae been sure that I wad say naething wad harm her, for a' thegowd in Lunnon. And I maun tell the minister about it. I dinna see thatshe suld be sae feared for her ain bonny bargain o' a gudeman, and that Ishouldna reverence Mr. Butler just as much; and sae I'll e'en tell him,when that tippling body the Captain has ta'en boat in the morning.--But Iwonder at my ain state of mind," she added, turning back, after she hadmade a step or two to the door to join the gentlemen; "surely I am no sica fule as to be angry that Effie's a braw lady,
while I am only aminister's wife?--and yet I am as petted as a bairn, when I should blessGod, that has redeemed her from shame, and poverty, and guilt, as owerlikely she might hae been plunged into."
Sitting down upon a stool at the foot of the bed, she folded her armsupon her bosom, saying within herself, "From this place will I not risetill I am in a better frame of mind;" and so placed, by dint of tearingthe veil from the motives of her little temporary spleen against hersister, she compelled herself to be ashamed of them, and to view asblessings the advantages of her sister's lot, while its embarrassmentswere the necessary consequences of errors long since committed. And thusshe fairly vanquished the feeling of pique which she naturally enoughentertained, at seeing Effie, so long the object of her care and herpity, soar suddenly so high above her in life, as to reckon amongst thechief objects of her apprehension the risk of their relationship beingdiscovered.
When this unwonted burst of _amour propre_ was thoroughly subdued, shewalked down to the little parlour where the gentlemen were finishingtheir game, and heard from the Captain a confirmation of the newsintimated in her letter, that the Duke of Argyle was shortly expected atRoseneath.
"He'll find plenty of moor-fowls and plack-cock on the moors ofAuchingower, and he'll pe nae doubt for taking a late dinner, and a pedat the Manse, as he has done pefore now."
"He has a gude right, Captain," said Jeanie.
"Teil ane potter to ony ped in the kintra," answered the Captain. "And yehad potter tell your father, puir body, to get his beasts a' in order,and put his tamn'd Cameronian nonsense out o' his head for twa or threedays, if he can pe so opliging; for fan I speak to him apout prutepestil, he answers me out o' the Pible, whilk is not using a shentlemanweel, unless it be a person of your cloth, Mr. Putler."
No one understood better than Jeanie the merit of the soft answer, whichturneth away wrath; and she only smiled, and hoped that his Grace wouldfind everything that was under her father's care to his entiresatisfaction.
But the Captain, who had lost the whole postage of the letter atbackgammon, was in the pouting mood not unusual to losers, and which,says the proverb, must be allowed to them.
"And, Master Putler, though you know I never meddle with the things ofyour kirk-sessions, yet I must pe allowed to say that I will not bepleased to allow Ailie MacClure of Deepheugh to be poonished as a witch,in respect she only spaes fortunes, and does not lame, or plind, orpedevil any persons, or coup cadger's carts, or ony sort of mischief; putonly tells people good fortunes, as anent our poats killing so many sealsand doug-fishes, whilk is very pleasant to hear."
"The woman," said Butler, "is, I believe, no witch, but a cheat: and itis only on that head that she is summoned to the kirk-session, to causeher to desist in future from practising her impostures upon ignorantpersons."
"I do not know," replied the gracious Duncan, "what her practices orpostures are, but I pelieve that if the poys take hould on her to duckher in the Clachan purn, it will be a very sorry practice--and I pelieve,moreover, that if I come in thirdsman among you at the kirk-sessions, youwill be all in a tamn'd pad posture indeed."
Without noticing this threat, Mr. Butler replied, "That he had notattended to the risk of ill-usage which the poor woman might undergo atthe hands of the rabble, and that he would give her the necessaryadmonition in private, instead of bringing her before the assembledsession."
"This," Duncan said, "was speaking like a reasonable shentleman;" and sothe evening passed peaceably off.
Next morning, after the Captain had swallowed his morning draught ofAthole brose, and departed in his coach and six, Mrs. Butler anewdeliberated upon communicating to her husband her sister's letter. Butshe was deterred by the recollection, that, in doing so, she would unveilto him the whole of a dreadful secret, of which, perhaps, his publiccharacter might render him an unfit depositary. Butler already had reasonto believe that Effie had eloped with that same Robertson who had been aleader in the Porteous mob, and who lay under sentence of death for therobbery at Kirkcaldy. But he did not know his identity with GeorgeStaunton, a man of birth and fortune, who had now apparently reassumedhis natural rank in society. Jeanie had respected Staunton's ownconfession as sacred, and upon reflection she considered the letter ofher sisteras equally so, and resolved to mention the contents to no one.
On reperusing the letter, she could not help observing the staggering andunsatisfactory condition of those who have risen to distinction by unduepaths, and the outworks and bulwarks of fiction and falsehood, by whichthey are under the necessity of surrounding and defending theirprecarious advantages. But she was not called upon, she thought, tounveil her sister's original history--it would restore no right to anyone, for she was usurping none--it would only destroy her happiness, anddegrade her in the public estimation. Had she been wise, Jeanie thoughtshe would have chosen seclusion and privacy, in place of public life andgaiety; but the power of choice might not be hers. The money, shethought, could not be returned without her seeming haughty and unkind.She resolved, therefore, upon reconsidering this point, to employ it asoccasion should serve, either in educating her children better than herown means could compass, or for their future portion. Her sister hadenough, was strongly bound to assist Jeanie by any means in her power,and the arrangement was so natural and proper, that it ought not to bedeclined out of fastidious or romantic delicacy. Jeanie accordingly wroteto her sister, acknowledging her letter, and requesting to hear from heras often as she could. In entering into her own little details of news,chiefly respecting domestic affairs, she experienced a singularvacillation of ideas; for sometimes she apologised for mentioning thingsunworthy the notice of a lady of rank, and then recollected thateverything which concerned her should be interesting to Effie. Herletter, under the cover of Mr. Whiterose, she committed to thepost-office at Glasgow, by the intervention of a parishioner who hadbusiness at that city.
The next week brought the Duke to Roseneath, and shortly afterwards heintimated his intention of sporting in their neighbourhood, and takinghis bed at the Manse; an honour which he had once or twice done to itsinmates on former occasions.
Effie proved to be perfectly right in her auticipations. The Duke hadhardly set himself down at Mrs. Butler's right hand, and taken uponhimself the task of carving the excellent "barn-door chucky," which hadbeen selected as the high dishes upon this honourable occasion, before hebegan to speak of Lady Staunton of Willingham, in Lincolnshire, and thegreat noise which her wit and beauty made in London. For much of thisJeanie was, in some measure, prepared--but Effie's wit! that would neverhave entered into her imagination, being ignorant how exactly raillery inthe higher rank resembles flippancy among their inferiors.
"She has been the ruling belle--the blazing star--the universal toast ofthe winter," said the Duke; "and is really the most beautiful creaturethat was seen at court upon the birth-day."
The birthday! and at court!--Jeanie was annihilated, remembering well herown presentation, all its extraordinary circumstances, and particularlythe cause of it.
"I mention this lady particularly to you, Mrs. Butler," said the Duke,"because she has something in the sound of her voice, and cast of hercountenance, that reminded me of you--not when you look so palethough--you have over-fatigued yourself--you must pledge me in a glassof wine."
She did so, and Butler observed, "It was dangerous flattery in his Graceto tell a poor minister's wife that she was like a court-beauty."
"Oho, Mr. Butler," said the Duke, "I find you are growing jealous; butit's rather too late in the day, for you know how long I have admiredyour wife. But seriously, there is betwixt them one of those inexplicablelikenesses which we see in countenances, that do not otherwise resembleeach other."
"The perilous part of the compliment has flown off," thought Mr. Butler.
His wife, feeling the awkwardness of silence, forced herself to say,"That, perhaps, the lady might be her countrywoman, and the languagemight have made some resemblance."
"You are quite right," repl
ied the Duke. "She is a Scotch-woman, andspeaks with a Scotch accent, and now and then a provincial word drops outso prettily, that it is quite Doric, Mr. Butler."
"I should have thought," said the clergyman, "that would have soundedvulgar in the great city."
"Not at all," replied the Duke; "you must suppose it is not the broadcoarse Scotch that is spoken in the Cowgate of Edinburgh, or in theGorbals. This lady has been very little in Scotland, in fact she waseducated in a convent abroad, and speaks that pure court-Scotch, whichwas common in my younger days; but it is so generally disused now, thatit sounds like a different dialect, entirely distinct from our modern_patois._"
Notwithstanding her anxiety, Jeanie could not help admiring withinherself, how the most correct judges of life and manners can be imposedon by their own preconceptions, while the Duke proceeded thus: "She is ofthe unfortunate house of Winton, I believe; but, being bred abroad, shehad missed the opportunity of learning her own pedigree, and was obligedto me for informing her, that she must certainly come of the Setons ofWindygoul. I wish you could have seen how prettily she blushed at her ownignorance. Amidst her noble and elegant manners, there is now and then alittle touch of bashfulness and conventual rusticity, if I may call itso, that makes her quite enchanting. You see at once the rose that hadbloomed untouched amid the chaste precincts of the cloister, Mr. Butler."
True to the hint, Mr. Butler failed not to start with his
"Ut flos in septis secretus nascitur hortis," etc.,
while his wife could hardly persuade herself that all this was spoken ofEffie Deans, and by so competent a judge as the Duke of Argyle; and hadshe been acquainted with Catullus, would have thought the fortunes of hersister had reversed the whole passage.
She was, however, determined to obtain some indemnification for theanxious feelings of the moment, by gaining all the intelligence shecould; and therefore ventured to make some inquiry about the husband ofthe lady his Grace admired so much.
"He is very rich," replied the Duke; "of an ancient family, and has goodmanners: but he is far from being such a general favourite as his wife.Some people say he can be very pleasant--I never saw him so; but shouldrather judge him reserved, and gloomy, and capricious. He was very wildin his youth, they say, and has bad health; yet he is a good-looking manenough--a great friend of your Lord High Commissioner of the Kirk, Mr.Butler."
"Then he is the friend of a very worthy and honourable nobleman," saidButler.
"Does he admire his lady as much as other people do?" said Jeanie, in alow voice.
"Who--Sir George? They say he is very fond of her," said the Duke; "but Iobserve she trembles a little when he fixes his eye on her, and that isno good sign--But it is strange how I am haunted by this resemblance ofyours to Lady Staunton, in look and tone of voice. One would almost swearyou were sisters."
Jeanie's distress became uncontrollable, and beyond concealment. The Dukeof Argyle was much disturbed, good-naturedly ascribing it to his havingunwittingly recalled, to her remembrance her family misfortunes. He wastoo well-bred to attempt to apologise; but hastened to change thesubject, and arrange certain points of dispute which had occurred betwixtDuncan of Knock and the minister, acknowledging that his worthysubstitute was sometimes a little too obstinate, as well as tooenergetic, in his executive measures.
Mr. Butler admitted his general merits; but said, "He would presume toapply to the worthy gentleman the words of the poet to MarrucinusAsinius,
Manu Non belle uteris in joco atque vino."
The discourse being thus turned on parish business, nothing fartheroccurred that can interest the reader.