Redgauntlet: A Tale of the Eighteenth Century by Walter Scott (books for students to read .txt) 📖

at the time have made a companion to my friend Wilkie’s inimitable blind crowder. But with Wandering Willie this was only an occasional and a rare fit of dullness, such as will at times creep over all the professors of the fine arts, arising either from fatigue, or contempt of the present audience, or that caprice which so often tempts painters and musicians and great actors, in the phrase of the latter, to walk through their part, instead of exerting themselves with the energy which acquired their fame. But when the performer heard the voice of Darsie, his countenance became at once illuminated, and showed the complete mistake of those who suppose that the principal point of expression depends upon the eyes. With his face turned to the point from which the sound came, his upper lip a little curved, and quivering with agitation, and with a colour which surprise and pleasure had brought at once into his faded cheek, he exchanged the humdrum hornpipe which he had been sawing out with reluctant and lazy bow, for the fine Scottish air, You’re welcome, Charlie Stuart,

which flew from his strings as if by inspiration and after a breathless pause of admiration among the audience, was received with a clamour of applause, which seemed to show that the name and tendency, as well as the execution of the tune, was in the highest degree acceptable to all the party assembled.

In the meantime, Cristal Nixon, still keeping hold of Darsie, and following the landlord, forced his way with some difficulty through the crowded kitchen, and entered a small apartment on the other side of it, where they found Lilias Redgauntlet already seated. Here Nixon gave way to his suppressed resentment, and turning sternly on Crackenthorp, threatened him with his master’s severest displeasure, because things were in such bad order to receive his family, when he had given such special advice that he desired to be private. But Father Crackenthorp was not a man to be brow-beaten.

‘Why, brother Nixon, thou art angry this morning,’ he replied; ‘hast risen from thy wrong side, I think. You know, as well as I, that most of this mob is of the squire’s own making—gentlemen that come with their servants, and so forth, to meet him in the way of business, as old Tom Turnpenny says—the very last that came was sent down with Dick Gardener from Fairladies.’

‘But the blind scraping scoundrel yonder,’ said Nixon, ‘how dared you take such a rascal as that across your threshold at such a time as this? If the squire should dream you have a thought of peaching—I am only speaking for your good, Father Crackenthorp.’

‘Why, look ye, brother Nixon,’ said Crackenthorp, turning his quid with great composure, ‘the squire is a very worthy gentleman, and I’ll never deny it; but I am neither his servant nor his tenant, and so he need send me none of his orders till he hears I have put on his livery. As for turning away folk from my door, I might as well plug up the ale-tap, and pull down the sign—and as for peaching, and such like, the squire will find the folk here are as honest to the full as those he brings with him.’

‘How, you impudent lump of tallow,’ said Nixon, ‘what do you mean by that?’

‘Nothing,’ said Crackenthorp, ‘but that I can tour out as well as another—you understand me—keep good lights in my upper story—know a thing or two more than most folk in this country. If folk will come to my house on dangerous errands, egad they shall not find Joe Crackenthorp a cat’s-paw. I’ll keep myself clear, you may depend on it, and let every man answer for his own actions—that’s my way. Anything wanted, Master Nixon?’

‘No—yes—begone!’ said Nixon, who seemed embarrassed with the landlord’s contumacy, yet desirous to conceal the effect it produced on him.

The door was no sooner closed on Crackenthorp, than Miss Redgauntlet, addressing Nixon, commanded him to leave the room and go to his proper place.

‘How, madam?’ said the fellow sullenly, yet with an air of respect, ‘Would you have your uncle pistol me for disobeying his orders?’

‘He may perhaps pistol you for some other reason, if you do not obey mine,’ said Lilias, composedly.

‘You abuse your advantage over me, madam—I really dare not go—I am on guard over this other miss here; and if I should desert my post, my life were not worth five minutes’ purchase.’

‘Then know your post, sir,’ said Lilias, ‘and watch on the outside of the door. You have no commission to listen to our private conversation, I suppose? Begone, sir, without further speech or remonstrance, or I will tell my uncle that which you would have reason to repent be should know.’

The fellow looked at her with a singular expression of spite, mixed with deference. ‘You abuse your advantages, madam,’ he said, ‘and act as foolishly in doing so as I did in affording you such a hank over me. But you are a tyrant; and tyrants have commonly short reigns.’

So saying, he left the apartment.

‘The wretch’s unparalleled insolence,’ said Lilias to her brother, ‘has given me one great advantage over him. For knowing that my uncle would shoot him with as little remorse as a woodcock, if he but guessed at his brazen-faced assurance towards me, he dares not since that time assume, so far as I am concerned, the air of insolent domination which the possession of my uncle’s secrets, and the knowledge of his most secret plans, have led him to exert over others of his family.’

‘In the meantime,’ said Darsie, ‘I am happy to see that the landlord of the house does not seem so devoted to him as I apprehended; and this aids the hope of escape which I am nourishing for you and for myself. O Lilias! the truest of friends, Alan Fairford, is in pursuit of me, and is here at this moment. Another humble, but, I think, faithful friend, is also within these dangerous walls.’

Lilias laid her finger on her lips, and pointed to the door. Darsie took the hint, lowered his voice, and informed her in whispers of the arrival of Fairford, and that he believed he had opened a communication with Wandering Willie. She listened with the utmost interest, and had just begun to reply, when a loud noise was heard in the kitchen, caused by several contending voices, amongst which Darsie thought he could distinguish that of Alan Fairford.

Forgetting how little his own condition permitted him to become the assistant of another, Darsie flew to the door of the room, and finding it locked and bolted on the outside, rushed against it with all his force, and made the most desperate efforts to burst it open, notwithstanding the entreaties of his sister that he would compose himself and recollect the condition in which he was placed. But the door, framed to withstand attacks from excisemen, constables, and other personages, considered as worthy to use what are called the king’s keys, [In common parlance, a crowbar and hatchet.] ‘and therewith to make lockfast places open and patent,’ set his efforts at defiance. Meantime the noise continued without, and we are to give an account of its origin in our next chapter.