CHAPTER IV
THE GOLDEN FARMER
But that same night we got the full story, so far as she knew it, fromNance Edgar. It did not help us any in finding out what had become ofpoor Harry the carrier and his mail bags, but because it involvedElsie's father and mother I will admit that it interested me nearly asmuch.
Nance Edgar was a weather-beaten woman of about fifty. She had livednearly all her life in the fields, and was tanned like a leatherschoolbag for carrying books. She was kindly, but you never could havetold it on her. Only I knew because she had been kind to Elsie.
Afterwards I found out that often she would go supperless to bed thatElsie might have something to eat when she came home from school.
But when Nance Edgar talked it was with the curious kind of quiet Ihave noticed about the speech of gentlefolks. The other field workerssaid that she kept herself to herself. But in the furrow, or on therig, she was kind to young ones or feeble folk who were not up to theirwork. So Nance, in spite of her aloofness, was not at all unpopular.She always had work, too, because she could be trusted with anything.
So that very night I said to Elsie: "Let's have it out with Nance aboutyour people. Your grandfather is as rich as can be. There may bemoney in it, and my father says you should never let that go a-begging.Besides you ought to know about your father and mother. It is onlyrespectable if you are asked."
"Oh, I know all that," said Elsie, mightily unmoved, "my mother marriedher cousin and her father was angry. She ran away. My grandfather cankeep his old money. Who wants it? Not I! I am happier with Nance."
This was very well, but if Elsie was not curious, I was. So I cooedand besought round Nance Edgar that night, till at last she told useverything in her little kitchen, after the tea dishes had been washedup and the coal fire was beginning to catch--the flame paying bo-peepwith the bars, and every now and then coming brightly out in atriumphant jet of light, unexpected like a cuckoo clock, shining onElsie's yellow hair and Nance's calm, tired face as she told us thestory--
"Breckonside was not a big place twenty years ago (she said), even lessthan it is now, but there is one house that is a-wanting. That wasyour grandfather's house, Elsie, him they call the Golden Farmer, thatlives now at the Grange in Deep Moat Hollow.
"It was up yonder beyond the church, and in the summer mornings thetombstones were blithe to see, glinting rosy-coloured with the dew onthem, and the long, well-nourished grass hiding the inscriptions. Nowyou may go up the burnside to the turn of the road where the kirkburnruns bonnie and clear down the hill. The heather and the breckon growthere together, and that they say gave its name to thevillage--Breckonside. At any rate, there where stood yourgrandfather's cottage--he was a poor man then--ye will see a kind ofknowe or hillock, greener than the rest. But of the house not onestone is left upon another. The kindly mould is over all. The hemlockand the foxglove, what we used to call 'bloody fingers,' grow tall andred where lovers whispered cannily by the ingle nook, and of all thatwell-set garden plot where Hobby the Miser--that is now Mr. HowardStennis--grew his weaving lint and dibbled his cabbages, only a singlelilac bush looks over the corner of the broken-down dyke as you pass by!
"But at that time it was a heartsome spot. I mind it well; I was youngmysel'." (Here Nance Edgar sighed and was silent awhile, looking atthe pouting bo-peep of the little blue flames between the hearth bars.)"A-well, youth comes and youth goes, but at the last the greenswardcovers it like Miser Hobby's cottage.
"Long they dwelt there, Miser Stennis and his daughter Bell. She hadthe name of being bonnie to look on in her young days, and many a loverwould fain have hung up his hat behind the kitchen door and taken hisseat at Hobby Stennis's table as his son-in-law.
"But Hobby was a far-seeing carle and a plain-spoken. He had but oneword for all such.
"'When I hae a felt want for ony sons-in-law I will put a notice inEditor Drake's weekly screed, or hae it intimated in the parish kirk!'
"There were ill reports even then about the miser. Lights were seenwandering up the hillsides above the cottage when the nights were mirkand unkindly. Hobby would be found far from home with a basketgathering simples and medical plants--that is, by his way of it. So hegrew to be counted a wizard, and had the name of money which is souseful to a man in some ways, but more than all else makes the folkjealous, too.
"It was less than natural that Hobby should always have the best lintwherewith to weave the flowered tablecovers by which he made his fame.Why should he have early potatoes a clear fortnight before the rest ofthe Breckonsiders? But chiefly it was the ill-will about money thatbred bad blood. Over the door of the parish church of Breckonside theyhad printed the motto, 'We serve the Lord.' But the right words shouldhave been, 'We envy and grieve at the good of our neighbour.' For whenthe men thought of Miser Stennis's money bags they could have felledhim, and when the women saw Bell Stennis's bonnie face smiling over herbraw mantle, they set to work and bethought them what lie they couldtell about her. All except me, and I was always by her side, as nearas might be, loving her more than my own flesh and blood. And Belltold me all that was in her heart, because you see we had been atschool together, sitting side by side on the same bench and sharing thesame apple and toffee stick.
"So I was the only soul that knew it beforehand, when Bonnie Bellsuddenly took matters into her own hand and gave Miser Hobby ason-in-law he had never bargained for--a first cousin of her own, anensign in a marching regiment. The two foolish ones ran to Gretna toget married--I with them in the coach. But I had to tramp it back onmy own feet, with Miser Hobby's malediction on my head as well as ontheirs. You see he had spent money on the young fellow's commissionhoping to get him out of the road, as soon as he suspected what was inthe wind between Bell and him.
"But the regiment stayed on in Longtown just over the borders, andnearly every day Frank Stennis and a company would come through thecountryside with feathers waving bravely in their bonnets, drawing inthe silly young by the glint of their accoutrements, or wiling them tolist by the merry noise of the pipe and drum that went before them andset the pulses jumping even in weak women's hearts.
"But after Bell took the road to Gretna, and the white cat by theBreckonside was left lonely, the miser never uttered word, but sat withshut mouth at the weaving of the wonderful flowered napery, the secretof which he alone possessed. And if he could not weave himself a newdaughter with all his skill, at least he kept himself so busy that heseldom minded the one he had lost.
"And then he took to leaving his weaving, which nobody could do as wellas he, and trying a new trade--that of cattle dealing and droving. Atleast, so it was said. At any rate Laird Stennis would shut up thecottage, and the sound of the weary shuttle would cease by thewaterside. He would be seen riding to every market, cattle mart, horsefair, lamb sale, wool sale, displenishing-roup within fifty mile, hisshoulders bent weaver fashion and his thin shanks legginged in untannedleather.
"But what was the wonder of the folk of Breckonside to see LairdStennis, who could hardly abide his own kith and kin, suddenly bring agreat stalwart colt of a ne'er-do-well, Jeremy Orrin by name, home tohis house. For the creature was hardly held accountable for hisactions. He had once killed a man in a brawl at a fair and been triedfor his life, but had gotten off as being half an idiot, or what thefolk about the south of the Cheviots called a 'natural.'
"The two of them brawled together, and drank and carried on to be thescandal of the place, till something happened--it was never knownwhat--but Miser Stennis was laid up with a crack in his skull, and theMad Jeremy tended him, gentle and tender as a mother they said. But sofierce with any one else that none, even the doctor, ventured near thecottage.
"Still your mother's name was never mentioned, and when others spoke tohim of his daughter he would look round for fear of Daft Jeremy, whowas jealous of her they said.
"And your father--well, I misdoubt me that he was no better than heshould be. And my poor Bell had bu
t a sorrowful time of it, followingthe regiment, and at last left behind when they embarked for theIndies. Then her father sent her word that having made her bed shemight lie on it. She had no rights on him or on his money.
"So a year or two slipped by, and maybe another five or six to the backof that, and still no word of Bell. When, true as I am telling ye, whobut Bell brought back word of herself. Faith, and it was strange word!I mind it clear as yesterday, for it was me, Nance Edgar, that am thisday old and done, who gat the first glint of her.
"It was a fine summer morn, early in June, and the clouds in the sky tothe east were just the colour of the first brier rosebuds in the hedgeby the roadside. I came up the brae like a Untie and as free o' care,for my heart was light in those good days. There stood the cot ofBreckonside before me, shining white in the sun. For the miser, thoughhe spared most other things, never was a sparer of good whitewash. Iwas just beginning to listen for the _click-clack_ of Hobby's shuttle,when down by the waterside methought I saw a ferlie.
"Fegs, I said to myself that surely the old times had come back again,and that the wee folk were disporting themselves once more in broaddaylight. For, on the grass by the burn a bonnie bit bairn ran hitherand thither waving its hands and laughing to the heavens for verygladness. The night had been calm, a 'gossamer night,' as the gipsyfolk call it, and from hedge to hemlock, and from lowly bracken to tallQueen o' the Meadow, the silver threads were stretched taut like thecordage of some sea-going ship. The dew shone silver clear on ilkasilken strand, and the blobs o' it were like pearls and diamonds in themorning sun.
"And aye the longer I stood the wilder the bairn ran and skippedlightfoot as a fairy herself. 'Bonnie--bonnie--oh, bonnie!' she cried,clapping her hands and laughing, 'see mither, mither, are they no uncobonnie?'
"Then, by the side of the beck, as if, being wearied with travel, shehad set her down to take a drink of the caller burn water, I saw awoman sit. She was beneath a bush of hazel, and her head was restingtired-like on her hand. So, being back there in the shadow, I had notnoticed her at the first, being taken up, as was small wonder, with thesight of that bonnie yellow-haired bairn flichtering here and therelike a butterfly in the sun.
"Then the wee lass saw me and ran whatever she could to me. She tookmy hand and syne looked up in my face as trustful-like as if she ha'kenned me all her days.
"'Here woman,' she cried, 'come and wake my minnie to me, for I canna.She winna hearken when her wee Elsie speaks to her.'
"Hand in hand we went up to the poor thing, and even as I went a greatfear gripped me by the heart. For the woman sat still, even when mystep must have sounded in her ear. I laid my hand on her, and, as I ama living woman, she was clay cauld. The bairn looked ever up into myface.
"'Can you no waken my mither, either?' she said wistfully.
"'No,' said I. 'No, my puir, wee lassie!' For truth to tell, I kennednot what to say.
"'Will minnie never waken?' she asked again, bright as a button.
"'I fear not, bonnie lassie,' said I, and the tear was in my eye.
"Then the elf clapped her hands and danced like a yellow butterfly overthe lea.
"'Then she willna greet any more! She willna be hungry any more. Shewill never need bite o' meat nor thread o' claes for ever and evermair.' She lilted the words almost as if she had been singing a tune.'She will be richt pleased, my minnie. For, oh, she grat sair andoften! She carried me in her arms till her ain feet were hurted andshe could gang nae farther. Late yestreen she sat doon here to washthem, and I sat, too, and after that she cuddled me in her airms. Areye no richt glad for my minnie?'
"I telled her that I was glad, for naught less would satisfy her,though even as I spak the words the sob rose in my throat.
"And as we stood there, looking at the woman sitting with her face onher hands, what should happen but that the auld miser should comehirpling to the door, and there, too, looking over his shoulder, wasDaft Jeremy, that the village bairns were wont to cry at and call the'Mounster.'
"'What hae ye there, Nance Edgar?' the old man cried, shaking his stickat me; 'keep away from my door with your doxies and changeling bairns.'"
"But I was civil to him for his age's sake, and also because of thewitless man that was looking over his shoulder. For it is not good tocross such as the Lord has smitten in their understanding, and so do myown folk never.
"'It is a woman, Laird Stennis,' quoth I, 'that hath set herself downto die by your burnside.'
"'Die,' cried he, with a queer scream most like a frighted hen flyingdown off the baulks, 'what word is that to speak? A woman dead by myburnside--what richt had she there? Who has taken such a liberty withHobby Stennis?'
"'Nay, that you can come and see for yourself,' said I, a littlenettled at the carle's hardness of heart. So the auld miser, bent andstiff, came hirpling barehead down the path, and behind him, lookingmost uncanny, danced Daft Jeremy, combing his hair with a weaver'sheckle and muttering to himself. The morning sunshine fell fair onthis strange couple, and when she saw him the little maid let go myhand and ran to Laird Stennis. She would have taken his hand, but hepushed her off. Whereat, she being affronted, the witch caught at hisstick and pulled it away from him before he could resist. Then she gatastride and played horses with it on the green grass of the burnsidedell. It was like an incantation.
"But without heeding her the old man went to the woman, and, lifting upher head, looked steadfastly in her face.
"'God in his heaven be merciful,' he cried, 'it is my daughter Bell!'
"Then the 'mounster' laughed loud and long, and wrapping his 'heckle'in a wisp of paper, he played a tune upon it with his mouth, dancinground and crying, 'There's her right for ye--ye said she hadna a right,Laird Stennis! Ye were that hard ye refused the woman room to die atyour dykeside. But Bell has come hame to claim her own. Coffin andclay--coffin and clay! Sax foot of clean kirkyard sods! Faith, I wisha' Daft Jeremy's enemies had the same, nae mair and nae less. But it'sas weel as it is, Laird Stennis--for Jeremy cannot be doing with grownwomen about the noose o' Breckonside. And it's him that has the saynow, ye ken!'
"But the old man answered nothing, good or ill. He only stood andlooked down at his daughter, muttering to himself words that soundedlike 'Bell has comed hame.... My bairn has comed back to me at thelast!'
"So in time the miser buried his daughter decently, and took the littlelass hame to him to bring up. But when this came to be talked of inthe countryside, there was a well-to-do woman in Dumfries toon, aMistress Comly or Comline, that was some kin to Bell Stennis throughher mother, and when she heard o' the bit bairn shut up in thatlonesome house with only a miser and a daft man, she had heart pity onher, and as soon as she had shut her shop one Saturday afternoon, offshe set to Breckonside in a pony cart that she used to bring her goodsup from the port quay.
"It was but a coldrife welcome she gat at the white house ofBreckonside, but sorrow a bit Margaret Comline cared for that. Shetied up her sonsy beast, that was, like herself, fat as pats of butter,to the yettpost of the miser's garden. And when he came to the doorhimself, she did not take a couple of minutes in telling the auld runther business, plump and plain.
"'I hae comed to ask ye to put away that daft man,' she said, 'and geta decent woman for a house-keeper, Laird Stennis.'
"'Meanin' yourself, Margar't Comline,' interrupted the miser, with acunning smirk. He had shut the door in her face, and was conductingnegotiations through a crack.
"'_Me_ be your housekeeper!' cried the visitor, 'me that is a ratepayerand a well-considered indweller in the burgh o' Dumfries. Man, I wouldnot cross your doorstep though ye were Provost. But I hear that ye haethis bit bairn in the hoose, and a lassie bairn, too (that's fullcousin's daughter to myself). I have come to tell ye that it isneither Christian nor decent to bring up the wee thing but and ben wi'a kenned ill-doer like Daft Jeremy, that has twice been tried for hislife for the shedding of blood!'
"From behind the
closed inner door of the cothouse there came ahigh-pitched angry cry that garred the very blood run chill as ice inMargaret Comline's veins. I mean that the thought of it didafterwards. For at the time she just looked about her to see thatDonald, her pony, was not far away, and that the road was clear to thelight market cart in case that she had to make a break for it. She hadeke a sturdy staff in her hand, that the loons of the port kennedbravely the weight of.
"It was the voice of the man-wanting-wit, crying out to be at her, thatshe heard.
"'She has ta'en from me my guid name,' his words reached her throughthe very stone and lime of the house, 'and she wad take the bonniesiller oot of the black chest that you and Jeremy keep so carefully.Gie the woman the bit lassie bairn, Laird Stennis, and let her travel.For less will not serve her, and forbye a bairn is only an expense andan eating up o' good meat in any man's house!'
"And while the din was at its height in the cot, there came a sound toMistress Comline's ear that garred her kind heart loup within her. Itwas like the whimpering of a bairn that is ill used and dares not cryout loud. And with that she for gat her fear of the strange fool, DaftJeremy, and with her naked hands she shook the door of the cothouse ofBreckonside till the iron stinchel clattered in its ring.
"'The magistrates o' Dumfries shall ken o' this or I am a day aulder!'she cried in to them. 'Gie me the lassie or the preventive men shallhear of the barrels ye hae hidden in the yard. Supervisor Imrie shallbe here and search every inch high and low if ye lay as much as afinger on the innocent bairn!'
"And even as she cried out threatenings and shook the stout oaken doorso that the leaves almost fell asunder, Margaret Comline heard a noisebehind her, and whipped about quickly with her heart in her mouth, forshe thought it was Daft Jeremy come out to slay her.
"But instead it was the wee lass herself that had escaped by a kind ofa miracle through the window of the 'aumry' or pantry closet. ForLaird Stennis had it closed with a board, grudging the expense ofglass. The lass was greeting and laughing at the same time, feared tothe marrow of her bits of bones, but yet crouse withal. MistressComline marvelled to see her.
"'I hae left the stead of my teeth in his hand, I wot!' she said, asMistress Comline helped her into the light cart at the roadside.
"'And see what I brought with me,' she added as they drove away. Itwas a shagreen leather pocketbook like those which well-to-do farmerscarry, or rich English drovers that come to the cattle trysts to buyfor the English market. And Mistress Comline, struck with fear lestshe should be taken for a thief, would have turned back, but that atthat very moment, out of the door of the cot, there burst a terrifyingfigure--even Daft Jeremy himself, a great flesher's knife uplifted inhis hand. He was scraiching out words without meaning, and looked sofleysome that the decent woman e'en slipped the shagreen purse into herreticule basket and laid whiplash to Donald till that pampered beastmust have thought that the punishment of all his sins had overtaken himat once.
"The 'mounster' pursued after them with these and such like affrightingoutcries to the very entering in of Longtown. And never had MargaretComline, decent woman, been so glad to recognize Her Majesty'sauthority as when she saw Supervisor Imrie with two-three of his mencome riding up from the Brig-End and out upon the green grass of theTerreggles Braes. But she said nothing, only gave them a good day inpassing, and bade them 'beware o' the puir "naiteral," Daft Jeremy,that was in one o' his fits o' anger that day!'
"'Sic a fierce craitur should be in the Towbooth. He is a danger tothe lieges,' said Supervisor Imrie, adding more cautiously, 'That is,were it no that he would be a cess on the burgh and pairish!"
"When Mistress Comline gat to her own door she first delivered Donaldinto the hands of her serving prentice, Robin Carmorie, as stout andblythe a lad as ever walked the Plainstanes. But the wee lass she tookby the hand up to her own chamber, and there she stripped her to theskin and washed her and put fine raiment on her, new from theshop--aye, and did not rest from her labours till she had gatheredevery auld rag that she found on her and committed them to the flames,as if they had been art and part in the wizardry of Laird Stennis, hergrandfather, and the coming ill-repute of the white cothouse on thebrae-face of Breckonside.
"But, fearing she knew not clearly what, she sealed the shagreenpocket-book up in a clean white wrapper and laid it aside in herdrawer, saying to herself, 'If this be honestly come by the laird is nothe man to forget to ca' in for his ain. And if no----" Here a shakeof the head and a shrewd smile intimated that the contents of thepocket-book might one day be useful to its finder, little ElsieComline, as she was now to be named.
"'And wha has a better richt!' the shopkeeper would add, perhaps tosalve her conscience in the matter.
"But, indeed, it was but seldom, the pocket-book once safe in thedrawer, that she thought about the matter at all. For Margaret Comlinewas a busy woman of affairs, having under her serving lassies andprentice loons, a shop on the ground floor of a house in the Vennel,and a well-patronized stall in the market. All day she went to andfro, busily commending her goods and reproving her underlings withequal earnestness and point. Sunday and Saturday the wrinkle was neveroff her brow. Like Martha in the Scripture, she was careful andtroubled about many things. She read but seldom, and when she did hermemory retained not long the imprint of what she read. So that ouryoung monkey, Elsie, being fresh from the mischief-making of thegrammar school, where she was drilled with a class of boys, used toshift the marker of woven silk back ten pages or so in the godly bookover which her foster mother fell asleep on Sabbath afternoons. Bywhich means Mistress Comline was induced to peruse the same improvingpassage at least fifty times in the course of a year, yet without oncediscovering, or for a moment suspecting the fact.
"For all that, she saw to it that Elsie did her nightly school tasks,recommending the master to 'palmie' her well if she should ever come toschool unprepared. But, being a quick and ready learner, the younglass needed the less encouragement of that kind.
"As she grew older, too, Elsie would upon occasions serve a customer inthe shop, though Margaret Comline never allowed her to stand on thestreet among the babble of tongues at the market stalls. In a littletime she could distinguish the hanks of yarn and thread, the webs ofwincey, and bolts of linen as well as her mistress, and was counted ashrewd and capable hand at a bargain before she was fifteen.
"All this time her grandfather, the old miser Hobby, lived on in thelittle white house up among the fir-woods of Breckonside, growing everharder and richer, at least according to the clashes of the countryfolk. By day, and sometimes far into the night, the click of hisshuttle was never silent, and, being an old man, it was thought amarvel how he could sit so long at his loom. And still Daft Jeremyabode with him and filled his pirns. Sometimes the 'naiteral' wouldsit on the dyke top at the end of the cottage and laugh at the farmersas they rode by, crying names and unco words after them, so that manyshunned to pass that way in the gloaming, for fear of the half-witted,strong creature that mopped and mowed and danced at the lonely gableend. And they were of excellent judgment who did so.
"For Riddick of Langbarns disappeared frae the face o' the earth, beinglast seen within half a mile of Laird Stennis's loaning, and, less thana month after that, Lang Hutchins, who came to Longtown with all hisgains frae a year's trading padded inside his coat, so folks said,started out of Longtown at dusk and was never seen in Breckonsideagain. There were those who began to whisper fearsome things about theinnocent-appearing white cot at the top of the Lang Wood o' Breckonside.
"Yet there were others again, and they a stout-hearted majority, whoscoffed, and told how Riddick had been seen in market carrying morethan his load of whisky, and that as for Lang Hutchins, had he notdared his Maker that very day to strike him dead if he spoke not thetruth--all that heard him well knowing that even as he uplifted hishand he lied in his throat.
"Nor was Elsie wholly forgotten by her only near of kin. Twice orthrice a year there came from the
cottage a web of fine cloth, woven asonly Laird Stennis could weave it, with the inscription written plainlythereon, 'To be sold for the benefit of the upkeep of my granddaughter,Elsie Stennis.'
"After his accident, which nobody could explain and, indeed, few daredto ask about, Laird Stennis took a disgust at the Weaver's Cot by theburnside. He got his miserly money out, and with it he bought theestate of Deep Moat Hollow, that had been in the market for long--andthey say that he got it for a song, the late owner's need being greatand money terrible scarce. Then he and Daft Jeremy removed thither,and they had Jeremy's sister, a queer old maid (madder, they said, thanhimself), to keep house for the pair of them. Then the Laird Stennisrode ever the more to market and tryst, and waxed ever the richer,laying field to field, as is forbidden in the Holy Book. Then goodMrs. Comline died, and, though I was no better than a field worker, Iposted off to Dumfries, and took ye home to dwell with me in this housewhich is my very own. All for fear that your grandfather would claimyou and take you to bide in the same house as Mad Jeremy and hissisters. Oh, yes, there are more of them, and, indeed, by what I cansee and hear the place is like an asylum. Such antics were never heardtell of, and the poor creatures going dressed like zanies out of abooth at the Thorsby wakes."
Then we both cried out to Nance to know if she had seen these strangepeople, and to tell us what they were like.
"Seen them? Of course," she answered. "Do not I work there week in,week out for Bailiff Ball, who is a good man and honest in hispayments."
"Tell us about Daft Jeremy," we said, both speaking together, in afashion we had.
"Jeremy Orrin," said Nance, thoughtfully, giving the fire a poke withher clog; "well, at times the creature is fairly sensible. They say hewill talk of wonders he has seen on the deep, and in foreignparts--evil deeds and worse talk that makes the blood run cold tolisten. To look at--oh, he is a wild-looking fellow, with long blackhair all any way under his broad bonnet--something between a gipsy anda black-corked minstrel at a fair."
"And his sister?"
"Oh," said Nance shortly, "I know little of her. She is old enough tobe the mother of the lot, and if any of them have any sense it is AphraOrrin--or Miss Orrin, as Mr. Stennis makes all call her. She is sixty,if she is a day. But she plays with her brood of antic lunatics allabout the gardens, singing and making a mock of religion. Grown womenthey all are, but like so many scarecrows in their dress. LairdStennis, they say, wanted their sister to send them to a home for suchlike. But she would not, and Jeremy was against it, too, so there theybide, a disgrace to all the countryside, though harmless enough, Godknows."
Then Elsie's eyes met mine. We nodded as Nance finished her tale.Both of us knew that we meant to go and see for ourselves to-morrowwhat mysteries were contained within the Deep Moat in the Grange Hollow.