A Legend of Montrose by Walter Scott (best big ereader .TXT) 📖

wadna let us want if there was a horned beast atween this and Perth. But this is a warse job—it’s nae less than a wager.”

“A wager!” repeated Lord Menteith, with some surprise.

“Troth,” continued Donald, to the full as eager to tell his news as Lord Menteith was curious to hear them, “as your lordship is a friend and kinsman o’ the house, an’ as ye’ll hear eneugh o’t in less than an hour, I may as weel tell ye mysell. Ye sall be pleased then to know, that when our Laird was up in England where he gangs oftener than his friends can wish, he was biding at the house o’ this Sir Miles Musgrave, an’ there was putten on the table six candlesticks, that they tell me were twice as muckle as the candlesticks in Dunblane kirk, and neither airn, brass, nor tin, but a’ solid silver, nae less;—up wi’ their English pride, has sae muckle, and kens sae little how to guide it! Sae they began to jeer the Laird, that he saw nae sic graith in his ain poor country; and the Laird, scorning to hae his country put down without a word for its credit, swore, like a gude Scotsman, that he had mair candlesticks, and better candlesticks, in his ain castle at hame, than were ever lighted in a hall in Cumberland, an Cumberland be the name o’ the country.”

“That was patriotically said,” observed Lord Menteith.

“Fary true,” said Donald; “but her honour had better hae hauden her tongue: for if ye say ony thing amang the Saxons that’s a wee by ordinar, they clink ye down for a wager as fast as a Lowland smith would hammer shoon on a Highland shelty. An’ so the Laird behoved either to gae back o’ his word, or wager twa hunder merks; and sa he e’en tock the wager, rather than be shamed wi’ the like o’ them. And now he’s like to get it to pay, and I’m thinking that’s what makes him sae swear to come hame at e’en.”

“Indeed,” said Lord Menteith, “from my idea of your family plate, Donald, your master is certain to lose such a wager.”

“Your honour may swear that; an’ where he’s to get the siller I kenna, although he borrowed out o’ twenty purses. I advised him to pit the twa Saxon gentlemen and their servants cannily into the pit o’ the tower till they gae up the bagain o’ free gude-will, but the Laird winna hear reason.”

Allan here started up, strode forward, and interrupted the conversation, saying to the domestic in a voice like thunder, “And how dared you to give my brother such dishonourable advice? or how dare you to say he will lose this or any other wager which it is his pleasure to lay?”

“Troth, Allan M’Aulay,” answered the old man, “it’s no for my father’s son to gainsay what your father’s son thinks fit to say, an’ so the Laird may no doubt win his wager. A’ that I ken against it is, that the teil a candlestick, or ony thing like it, is in the house, except the auld airn branches that has been here since Laird Kenneth’s time, and the tin sconces that your father gard be made by auld Willie Winkie the tinkler, mair be token that deil an unce of siller plate is about the house at a’, forby the lady’s auld posset dish, that wants the cover and ane o’ the lugs.”

“Peace, old man!” said Allan, fiercely; “and do you, gentlemen, if your refection is finished, leave this apartment clear; I must prepare it for the reception of these southern guests.”

“Come away,” said the domestic, pulling Lord Menteith by the sleeve; “his hour is on him,” said he, looking towards Allan, “and he will not be controlled.”

They left the hall accordingly, Lord Menteith and the Captain being ushered one way by old Donald, and the two attendants conducted elsewhere by another Highlander. The former had scarcely reached a sort of withdrawing apartment ere they were joined by the lord of the mansion, Angus M’Aulay by name, and his English guests. Great joy was expressed by all parties, for Lord Menteith and the English gentlemen were well known to each other; and on Lord Menteith’s introduction, Captain Dalgetty was well received by the Laird. But after the first burst of hospitable congratulation was over, Lord Menteith could observe that there was a shade of sadness on the brow of his Highland friend.

“You must have heard,” said Sir Christopher Hall, “that our fine undertaking in Cumberland is all blown up. The militia would not march into Scotland, and your prick-ear’d Covenanters have been too hard for our friends in the southern shires. And so, understanding there is some stirring work here, Musgrave and I, rather than sit idle at home, are come to have a campaign among your kilts and plaids.”

“I hope you have brought arms, men, and money with you,” said Lord Menteith, smiling.

“Only some dozen or two of troopers, whom we left at the last Lowland village,” said Musgrave, “and trouble enough we had to get them so far.”

“As for money,” said his companion, “We expect a small supply from our friend and host here.”

The Laird now, colouring highly, took Menteith a little apart, and expressed to him his regret that he had fallen into a foolish blunder.

“I heard it from Donald,” said Lord Menteith, scarce able to suppress a smile.

“Devil take that old man,” said M’Aulay, “he would tell every thing, were it to cost one’s life; but it’s no jesting matter to you neither, my lord, for I reckon on your friendly and fraternal benevolence, as a near kinsman of our house, to help me out with the money due to these pock-puddings; or else, to be plain wi’ ye, the deil a M’Aulay will there be at the muster, for curse me if I do not turn Covenanter rather than face these fellows without paying them; and, at the best, I shall be ill enough off, getting both the scaith and the scorn.”

“You may suppose, cousin,” said Lord Menteith, “I am not too well equipt just now; but you may be assured I shall endeavour to help you as well as I can, for the sake of old kindred, neighbourhood, and alliance.”

“Thank ye—thank ye—thank ye,” reiterated M’Aulay; “and as they are to spend the money in the King’s service, what signifies whether you, they, or I pay it?—we are a’ one man’s bairns, I hope? But you must help me out too with some reasonable excuse, or else I shall be for taking to Andrew Ferrara; for I like not to be treated like a liar or a braggart at my own board-end, when, God knows, I only meant to support my honour, and that of my family and country.”

Donald, as they were speaking, entered, with rather a blither face than he might have been expected to wear, considering the impending fate of his master’s purse and credit. “Gentlemens, her dinner is ready, and HER CANDLES ARE LIGHTED TOO,” said Donald, with a strong guttural emphasis on the last clause of his speech.

“What the devil can he mean?” said Musgrave, looking to his countryman.

Lord Menteith put the same question with his eyes to the Laird, which M’Aulay answered by shaking his head.

A short dispute about precedence somewhat delayed their leaving the apartment. Lord Menteith insisted upon yielding up