"Assuredly not, Mrs. Mac-Candlish; assuredly not. I am sure ony sma' thing they might want frae my shop, under seven, or eight, or ten pounds, I would book them as readily for it as the first in the country.--Do they come in the auld chaise?""I dare say no," said the precentor; "for Miss Bertram comes on the white powny ilka day to the kirk--and a constant kirk-keeper she is--and it's a pleasure to hear her singing the psalms, winsome young thing.""Ay, and the young Laird of Hazlewood rides hame half the road wi'
her after sermon," said one of the gossips in company; "I wonder how auld Hazlewood likes that.""I kenna how he may like it now," answered another of the tea-drinkers; "but the day has been when Ellangowan wad hae liked as little to see his daughter taking up with their son.""Ay, has been," answered the first, with somewhat of emphasis.
"I am sure, neighbour Ovens," said the hostess, "the Hazlewoods of Hazlewood, though they are a very gude auld family in the county, never thought, till within these twa score o' years, of evening themselves till the Ellangowans--Wow, woman, the Bertrams of Ellangowan are the auld Dingawaies lang syne--there is a sang about ane o' them marrying a daughter of the King of Man; it begins--"Blythe Bertram's ta'en him ower the faem, To wed a wife, and bring her hame--I daur say Mr. Skreigh can sing us the ballant.""Gudewife," said Skreigh, gathering up his mouth, and sipping his tiff of brandy punch with great solemnity, "our talents were gien us to other use than to sing daft auld sangs sae near the Sabbath day.""Hout fie, Mr. Skreigh; I'se warrant I hae heard you sing a blythe sang on Saturday at e'en before now.--But as for the chaise, Deacon, it hasna been out of the coachhouse since Mrs. Bertram died, that's sixteen or seventeen years sin syne--. Jock Jabos is away wi' a chaise of mine for them;--I wonder he's no come back.
It's pit mirk [*Pitch dark]--but there's no an ill turn on the road but twa, and the brigg ower Warroch burn is safe eneugh, if he baud to the right side. But then there's Heavieside-brae, that's just a murder for post-cattle--but Jock kens the road brawly."[*Very well]
A loud rapping was heard at the door. "That's no them. I dinna hear the wheels.--Grizzel, ye limmer, gang to the door.""It's a single gentleman," whined out Grizzel; "maun I take him into the parlour?""Foul be in your feet, then; it'll be some English rider. Coming without a servant at this time o' night!--Has the ostler ta'en the horse?--Ye may light a spunk o' fire in the red room.""I wish, ma'am," said the traveller, entering the kitchen, "you would give me leave to warm myself here, for the night is very cold."His appearance, voice, and manner, produced an instantaneous effect in his favour. He was a handsome, tall, thin figure, dressed in black, as appeared when he laid aside his riding-coat; his age might be between forty and fifty; his cast of features grave and interesting, and his air somewhat military. Every point of his appearance and address bespoke the gentleman. Long habit had given Mrs. Mac-Candlish an acute tact in ascertaining the quality of her visitors, and proportioning her reception accordingly To every guest the appropriate speech was made, And every duty with distinction paid; Respectful, easy, pleasant, or polite--"Your honour's servant!--Mister Smith, good-night."On the present occasion, she was low in her curtsey, and profuse in her apologies. The stranger begged his horse might be attended to--she went out herself to school the hostler.
"There was never a prettier bit o' horse-flesh in the stable o' the Gordon Arms," said the man; which information increased the landlady's respect for the rider. Finding, on her return, that the stranger declined to go into another apartment (which, indeed, she allowed, would be but cold and smoky till the fire bleezed up), she installed her guest hospitably by the fireside, and offered what refreshment her house afforded.
"A cup of your tea, ma'am, if you will favour me." Mrs.
Mac-Candlish bustled about, reinforced her teapot with hyson, and proceeded in her duties with her best grace. "We have a very nice parlour, sir, and everything very agreeable for gentlefolks; but it's bespoke the night for a gentleman and his daughter, that are going to leave this part of the country--ane of my chaises is gane for them, and will be back forthwith--they're no sae weel in the warld as they have been; but we're a' subject to ups and downs in this life, as your honour must needs ken--but is not the tobacco-reek disagreeable to your honour?""By no means, ma'am; I am an old campaigner, and perfectly used to it.--Will you permit me to make some inquiries about a family in this neighbourhood?"The sound of wheels was now heard, and the landlady hurried to the door to receive her expected guests; but returned in an instant, followed by the postilion--"No, they canna come at no rate, the Laird's sae ill.""But God help them," said the landlady, "the morn's the term--the very last day they can bide in the house--a' thing's to be roupit." [*Sold by auction]
