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

worship’s good cheer;’ for Peter had become much more respectful in his demeanour towards the Justice since he had heard some intimation of dinner.

‘You shall have—eh—hum—aye—a bellyful, if it be possible to fill it. First let me know if this young man be really what he pretends. Nick, make his affidavit.’

‘Ow, he is just a wud harum-scarum creature, that wad never take to his studies; daft, sir, clean daft.’

‘Deft!’ said the Justice; ‘what d’ye mean by deft—eh?’

‘Just Fifish,’ replied Peter; ‘wowf—a wee bit by the East Nook or sae; it’s a common case—the ae half of the warld thinks the tither daft. I have met with folk in my day that thought I was daft mysell; and, for my part, I think our Court of Session clean daft, that have had the great cause of Peebles against Plainstanes before them for this score of years, and have never been able to ding the bottom out of it yet.’

‘I cannot make out a word of his cursed brogue,’ said the Cumbrian justice; ‘can you, neighbour—eh? What can he mean by DEFT?’

‘He means MAD,’ said the party appealed to, thrown off his guard by impatience of this protracted discussion.

‘Ye have it—ye have it,’ said Peter; ‘that is, not clean skivie, but—’

Here he stopped, and fixed his eye on the person he addressed with an air of joyful recognition.—‘Aye, aye, Mr. Herries of Birrenswork, is this your ainsell in blood and bane? I thought ye had been hanged at Kennington Common, or Hairiebie, or some of these places, after the bonny ploy ye made in the Forty-five.’

‘I believe you are mistaken, friend,’ said Herries, sternly, with whose name and designation I was thus made unexpectedly acquainted.

‘The deil a bit,’ answered the undaunted Peter Peebles; I mind ye weel, for ye lodged in my house the great year of Forty-five, for a great year it was; the Grand Rebellion broke out, and my cause—the great cause—Peebles against Plainstanes, ET PER CONTRA—was called in the beginning of the winter session, and would have been heard, but that there was a surcease of justice, with your plaids, and your piping, and your nonsense.’

‘I tell you, fellow,’ said Herries, yet more fiercely, ‘you have confused me with some of the other furniture of your crazy pate.’

‘Speak like a gentleman, sir,’ answered Peebles; ‘these are not legal phrases, Mr. Herries of Birrenswork. Speak in form of law, or I sall bid ye gude day, sir. I have nae pleasure in speaking to proud folk, though I am willing to answer onything in a legal way; so if you are for a crack about auld langsyne, and the splores that you and Captain Redgimlet used to breed in my house, and the girded cask of brandy that ye drank and ne’er thought of paying for it (not that I minded it muckle in thae days, though I have felt a lack of it sin syne), why I will waste an hour on ye at ony time.—and where is Captain Redgimlet now? he was a wild chap, like yoursell, though they arena sae keen after you poor bodies for these some years bygane; the heading and hanging is weel ower now—awful job—awful job—will ye try my sneeshing?’

He concluded his desultory speech by thrusting out his large bony paw, filled with a Scottish mull of huge dimensions, which Herries, who had been standing like one petrified by the assurance of this unexpected address, rejected with a contemptuous motion of his hand, which spilled some of the contents of the box.

‘Aweel, aweel,’ said Peter Peebles, totally unabashed by the repulse, ‘e’en as ye like, a wilful man maun hae his way; but,’ he added, stooping down and endeavouring to gather the spilled snuff from the polished floor, ‘I canna afford to lose my sneeshing for a’ that ye are gumple-foisted wi’ me.’

My attention had been keenly awakened, during this extraordinary and unexpected scene. I watched, with as much attention as my own agitation permitted me to command, the effect produced on the parties concerned. It was evident that our friend, Peter Peebles, had unwarily let out something which altered the sentiments of Justice Foxley and his clerk towards Mr. Herries, with whom, until he was known and acknowledged under that name, they had appeared to be so intimate. They talked with each other aside, looked at a paper or two which the clerk selected from the contents of a huge black pocket-book, and seemed, under the influence of fear and uncertainty, totally at a loss what line of conduct to adopt.

Herries made a different, and far more interesting figure. However little Peter Peebles might resemble the angel Ithuriel, the appearance of Herries, his high and scornful demeanour, vexed at what seemed detection yet fearless of the consequences, and regarding the whispering magistrate and his clerk with looks in which contempt predominated over anger or anxiety, bore, in my opinion, no slight resemblance to

the regal port And faded splendour wan

with which the poet has invested the detected King of the powers of the air.

As he glanced round, with a look which he had endeavoured to compose to haughty indifference, his eye encountered mine, and, I thought, at the first glance sank beneath it. But he instantly rallied his natural spirit, and returned me one of those extraordinary looks, by which he could contort so strangely the wrinkles on his forehead. I started; but, angry at myself for my pusillanimity, I answered him by a look of the same kind, and catching the reflection of my countenance in a large antique mirror which stood before me, I started again at the real or imaginary resemblance which my countenance, at that moment, bore to that of Herries. Surely my fate is somehow strangely interwoven with that of this mysterious individual. I had no time at present to speculate upon the subject, for the subsequent conversation demanded all my attention.

The Justice addressed Herries, after a pause of about five minutes, in which, all parties seemed at some loss how to proceed. He spoke with embarrassment, and his faltering voice, and the long intervals which divided his sentences, seemed to indicate fear of him whom he addressed.

‘Neighbour,’ he said, ‘I could not have thought this; or, if I—eh—DID think—in a corner of my own mind as it were—that you, I say—that you might have unluckily engaged in—eh—the matter of the Forty-five—there was still time to have forgot all that.’

‘And is it so singular that a man should have been out in the Forty-five?’ said Herries, with contemptuous composure;—‘your father, I think, Mr. Foxley, was out with Derwentwater in the Fifteen.’

‘And lost half of his estate,’ answered Foxley, with more rapidity than usual; ‘and was very near—hem—being hanged into the boot. But this is—another guess job—for—eh—Fifteen is not Forty-five; and my father had a remission, and you, I take it, have none.’

‘Perhaps I have,’ said Herries indifferently; ‘or if I have not, I am but in the case of half a dozen others whom government do not think worth looking after at this time of day, so they give no offence or disturbance.’

‘But you have given both, sir,’ said Nicholas Faggot, the clerk, who, having some petty provincial situation, as I have since understood, deemed himself bound to be zealous for government, ‘Mr.