Red Cap Tales, Stolen from the Treasure Chest of the Wizard of the North

Lovel, however, laughed at such fears, and was accordingly shown by the Antiquary up to the famous Green Room, a large chamber with walls covered by a tapestry of hunting scenes,—stags, boars, hounds, and huntsmen, all mixed together under the greenwood tree, the boughs of which, interlacing above, gave its name to the room.

Lovel fell asleep after a while, still bitterly meditating on how unkindly Miss Wardour had used him, and his thoughts, mixed with the perilous adventures of the evening, made him not a little feverish. At first his dreams were wild, confused, and impossible. He flew like a bird. He swam like a fish. He was upborne on clouds, and dashed on rocks which yet received him soft as pillows of down. But at last, out of the gloom a figure approached his bedside, separating himself from the wild race of the huntsmen upon the green tapestry,—a figure like that which had been described to him as belonging to the first laird of Monkbarns. He was dressed in antique Flemish garb, a furred Burgomaster cap was on his head, and he held in his hands a black volume with clasps of brass.

Lovel strove to speak, but, as usual in such cases, he could not utter a word. His tongue refused its office. The awful figure held up a warning finger, and then began deliberately to unclasp the volume he held in his hands. He turned the leaves hastily for a few minutes; then, holding the book aloft in his left hand, he pointed with his right to a line which seemed to start forth from the page glowing with supernatural fire. Lovel did not understand the language in which the book was printed, but the wonderful light with which the words glowed impressed them somehow on his memory. The vision shut the volume. A strain of music was heard, and Lovel awoke. The sun was shining full into the Green Room, and somewhere not far away a girl's voice was singing a simple Scottish air.

INTERLUDE OF WARNING

It was the spinner of yarns himself who broke the silence which fell on the party at the close of the first tale told out of the treasure-house of The Antiquary.

"If I catch you," were the words of warning which fell from his lips, "you, Hugh John, or you, Toady Lion, trying to hoist one another up a cliff with a rope and a chair—well, the rope will most certainly be used for quite another purpose, and both of you will just hate to look at a chair for a fortnight after! Do you understand?"

They understood perfectly.

"It was me they were going to hoist," confided Maid Margaret, coming a little closer. "I saw them looking at me all the time you were telling the story!"

"Well," I said, "just let me catch them at it, that's all!"

This caution being necessary for the avoidance of future trouble, I went on to read aloud the whole of the Storm chapters, to the children's unspeakable delight. Hugh John even begged for the book to take to bed with him, which privilege he was allowed, on the solemn promise that he would not "peep on ahead." Since Sweetheart's prophecies as to Die Vernon, such conduct has been voted scoundrelly and unworthy of any good citizen of the nursery.

On the whole, however, I could not make out whether The Antiquary promised to be a favourite or not. The storm scene was declared "famous," but the accompanying prohibition to break their own or their family's necks, by pulling chairs up and down rocks, somewhat damped the ardour of the usual enthusiasts.

As, however, the day was hopeless outside, the snow beating more and more fiercely on the windows, and hanging in heavy fleecy masses on the smallest twigs of the tree-branches and leafless rose stems, it was decided that nothing better could be imagined, than just to proceed with our second tale from The Antiquary. But before beginning I received two requests, somewhat difficult to harmonize the one with the other.

"Tell us all about Miss Wardour and Lovel. He's nice!" said Sweetheart.

"Skip all the love-making!" cried Hugh John and Sir Toady in a breath.

THE SECOND TALE FROM "THE ANTIQUARY"

I. LOVEL FIGHTS A DUEL

The Antiquary, to whom Lovel told his dream, promptly pulled out a black-letter volume of great age and, unclasping it, showed him the very motto of his vision. So far, however, from glowing with fire now, the words remained in the ordinary calm chill of type. But when the Antiquary told him that these words had been the Printer's Mark or Colophon of his ancestor, Aldobrand Oldenbuck, the founder of his house, and that they meant "skill wins favour," Lovel, though half ashamed of giving any credit to dreams, resolved to remain in the neighbourhood of Knockwinnock Castle and of Miss Wardour for at least some time longer.

In vain Oldbuck made light of his vision of the Green Room. In vain he reminded him that he had been showing that very volume to Sir Arthur the night before in his presence, and had even remarked upon the appropriate motto of old Aldobrand Oldenbuck.

Lovel was resolved to give his love for Miss Wardour one more chance. And indeed at that very moment, under the lady's window at Knockwinnock Castle, a strange love messenger was pleading his cause.

Miss Wardour had been trying to persuade old Edie Ochiltree to accept a garden, a cottage, and a daily dole, for his great services in saving her own and her father's life. But of this Edie would hear nothing.

"I would weary," he said, "to be forever looking up at the same beams and rafters, and out upon the same cabbage patch. I have a queer humour of my own, too, and I might be jesting and scorning where I should be silent. Sir Arthur and I might not long agree. Besides, what would the country do for its gossip—the blithe clatter at e'en about the fire? Who would bring news from one farm-town to another—gingerbread to the lassies, mend fiddles for the lads, and make grenadier caps of rushes for the bairns, if old Edie were tied by the leg at his own cottage door?"

"Well, then, Edie," said Miss Wardour, "if this be so, if you feel that the folk of the countryside cannot do without you, you must just let me know when you feel old enough to settle, and in the meantime take this."

And she handed him a sum of money. But for the second time again the beggar refused.

"Na, na," he said, "it is against our rule to take so muckle siller at once. I would be robbed and murdered for it at the next town—or at least I would go in fear of my life, which is just as bad. But you might say a good word for me to the ground-officer and the constable, and maybe bid Sandy Netherstanes the miller chain up his big dog, and I will e'en come to Knockwinnock as usual for my alms and my snuff."

Edie paused at this point, and, stepping nearer to the window on which Miss Wardour leaned, he continued, speaking almost in her ear.

"Ye are a bonny young leddy, and a good one," he said, "and maybe a well-dowered one. But do not you sneer away the laddie Lovel, as ye did a while syne on the walk beneath the Briery bank, when I both saw ye and heard ye too, though ye saw not me. Be canny with the lad, for he loves ye well. And it's owing to him, and not to anything I could have done, that you and Sir Arthur were saved yestreen!"

Then, without waiting for an answer, old Edie stalked toward a low doorway and disappeared. It was at this very moment that Lovel and the Antiquary entered the court. Miss Wardour had only time to hasten upstairs, while the Antiquary was pausing to point out the various features of the architecture of Knockwinnock Castle to the young man.

Miss Wardour met the two gentlemen in the drawing-room of the castle with her father's apology for not being able to receive them. Sir Arthur was still in bed, and, though recovering, he continued to suffer from the fatigues and anxieties of the past night.

"Indeed," said the Antiquary, "a good down pillow for his good white head were a couch more meet than Bessie's Apron, plague on her! But what news of our mining adventure in Glen Withershins?"

"None," said Miss Wardour, "or at least no good news! But here are some specimens just sent down. Will you look at them?"

And withdrawing into a corner with these bits of rock, the Antiquary proceeded to examine them, grumbling and pshawing over each ere he laid it aside to take up another. This was Lovel's opportunity to speak alone with Miss Wardour.

"I trust," he said, "that Miss Wardour will impute to circumstances almost irresistible, this intrusion of one who has reason to think himself so unacceptable a visitor."

"Mr. Lovel," said Miss Wardour, in the same low tone, "I am sure you are incapable of abusing the advantages given you by the services you have rendered us—ah, if I could only see you as a friend—or as a sister!"

"I cannot," said Lovel, "disavow my feelings. They are well known to Miss Wardour. But why crush every hope—if Sir Arthur's objections could be removed?"

"But that is impossible," said Miss Wardour, "his objections cannot be removed, and I am sure you will save both of us pain by leaving Fairport, and returning to the honourable career which you seem to have abandoned!"

"Miss Wardour," said Lovel, "I will obey your wishes, if, within one little month I cannot show you the best of reasons for continuing to abide at Fairport."

At this moment Sir Arthur sent down a message to say that he would like to see his old friend, the Laird of Monkbarns, in his bedroom. Miss Wardour instantly declared that she would show Mr. Oldbuck the way, and so left Lovel to himself. It chanced that in the interview which followed Sir Arthur let out by accident that his daughter had already met with Lovel in Yorkshire, when she had been there on a visit to her aunt. The Antiquary was at first astonished, and then not a little indignant, that neither of them should have told him of this when they were introduced, and he resolved to catechise his young friend Lovel strictly upon the point as soon as possible. But when at last he bade farewell to his friend Sir Arthur and returned below, another subject occupied his mind. Lovel and he were walking home over the cliffs, and when they reached the summit of the long ridge, Oldbuck turned and looked back at the pinnacles of the castle—at the ancient towers and walls grey with age, which had been the home of so many generations of Wardours.

"Ah," he muttered, sighing, half to himself, "it wrings my heart to say it—but I doubt greatly that this ancient family is fast going to the ground."

Then he revealed to the surprised Lovel how Sir Arthur's foolish speculations, and especially his belief in a certain German swindler, named Dousterswivel, had caused him to engage in some very costly mining ventures, which were now almost certain to result in complete failure.

As the Antiquary described Dousterswivel, Lovel remembered to have seen the man in the inn at Fairport, where he had been pointed out to him as one of the illuminati, or persons who have dealings with the dwellers in another world. But while thus talking and tarrying with his friend Monkbarns, an important letter was on its way to call Lovel back to Fairport. Oldbuck had so far taken his young friend to his heart, that he would not let him depart without making sure that the trouble he read on Lovel's face was not the want of money.

"If," he said, "there is any pecuniary inconvenience, I have fifty, or a hundred, guineas at your service—till Whitsunday—or indeed as long as you like!"

But Lovel, assuring him that the letter boded no difficulty of the kind, thanked him for his offer, and so took his leave.

It was some weeks before the Antiquary again saw Lovel. To the great astonishment of the town the young man hardly went out at all, and when he called upon him in his lodgings at Fairport, Mr. Oldbuck was astonished at the change in his appearance. Lovel was now pale and thin, and his black dress bore the badge of mourning. The Antiquary's gruff old heart was moved toward the lad. He would have had him come instantly with him to Monkbarns, telling him that, as they agreed well together, there was no reason why they should ever separate. His lands were in his own power of gift, and there was no reason why he should not leave them to whom he would.

Lovel, touched also by this unexpected affection, answered that he could not at present accept, but that before leaving Scotland he would certainly pay Monkbarns a long visit.

While the Antiquary remained talking thus to Lovel in his lodgings, a letter was brought from Sir Arthur Wardour inviting the young man to be a member of a party which proposed to visit the ruins of St. Ruth's Priory on the following day, and afterward to dine and spend the evening at Knockwinnock Castle. Sir Arthur added that he had made the same proposal to the family at Monkbarns. So it was agreed that they should go together, Lovel on horseback, and Oldbuck and his womenkind (as he called them) in a hired post-chaise.

The morning of the next day dawned clear and beautiful, putting Lovel in better spirits than he had known of late. With the Wardour party there came the German adept, Mr. Dousterswivel, to whom, after offering his thanks to his preserver of the night of storm, Sir Arthur introduced Lovel. The young man's instinctive dislike at sight of the impostor was evidently shared in by the Antiquary, for the lowering of his shaggy eyebrow clearly proclaimed as much.

Nevertheless, the first part of the day went well on the whole. Oldbuck took upon himself the office of guide, explaining and translating all the while, leading the company from point to point till they were almost as much at home as himself among the ruins of the Priory of St. Ruth.

But the peaceful occupations of the day were interrupted by the arrival of a young horseman in military undress, whom the Antiquary greeted with the words, "Hector, son of Priam, whence comest thou?"

"From Fife, my liege," answered Captain Hector MacIntyre, Mr. Oldbuck's nephew, who saluted the company courteously, but, as Lovel thought, seemed to view his own presence with a haughty and disapproving eye. Captain MacIntyre attached himself immediately to Miss Wardour, and even appeared to Lovel to take up a privileged position with regard to her. But Miss Wardour, after submitting to this close attendance for some time, presently turned sharply round, and asked a question of the Antiquary as to the date at which the Priory of St. Ruth was built. Of course Mr. Oldbuck started off like a warhorse at the sound of the trumpet, and, in the long harangue which ensued, mixed as it was with additions and contradictions from Sir Arthur and the minister, Captain MacIntyre found no further chance of appropriating Miss Wardour. He left her, accordingly, and walked sulkily by his sister's side.

From her he demanded to know who this Mr. Lovel might be, whom he found so very much at home in a circle in which he had looked forward to shining alone.

Mary MacIntyre answered sensibly that, as to who he was, her brother had better ask his uncle, who was in the habit of inviting to his house such company as pleased him; adding that, so far as she knew, Mr. Lovel was a very quiet and gentlemanly young man.

Far from being satisfied, however, from that moment Captain MacIntyre, with the instinct of a dog that returns home to find a stranger making free with his bone and kennel, set himself almost openly to provoke Lovel. When by chance the latter was called on by the Antiquary to state whether or not he had been present at a certain battle abroad, MacIntyre, with an accent of irony, asked the number of his regiment. And when that had been told him, he replied that he knew the regiment very well, but that he could not remember Mr. Lovel as an officer in it.

Whereupon, blushing quickly, Mr. Lovel informed Captain MacIntyre that he had served the last campaign on the staff of General Sir Blank Blank.

"Indeed," said MacIntyre, yet more insolently, "that is still more remarkable. I have had an opportunity of knowing the names of all the officers who have held such a situation, and I cannot recollect that of Lovel among them."

Lovel took out of his pocket-book a letter, from which he removed the envelope before handing it to his adversary.

"In all probability you know the General's hand," he said, "though I own I ought not to show such exaggerated expressions of thanks for my very slight services."

Captain MacIntyre, glancing his eye over it, could not deny that it was in the General's hand, but drily observed, as he returned it, that the address was wanting.

"The address, Captain MacIntyre," answered Lovel, in the same tone, "shall be at your service whenever you choose to inquire for it."

"I shall not fail to do so," said the soldier.

"Come, come," exclaimed Oldbuck, "what is the meaning of this? We'll have no swaggering, youngsters! Are you come from the wars abroad to stir up strife in a peaceful land?"

Sir Arthur, too, hoped that the young men would remain calm. But Lovel, from that moment, felt that he was to some extent under suspicion, and so, in a short time, he took the opportunity of bidding the company good-bye, on the plea of the return of a headache which had lately troubled him. He had not ridden far—rather loitering, indeed, to give MacIntyre a chance of overtaking him—when the sound of horse's hoofs behind told him that his adversary had returned to find him. The young officer touched his hat briefly, and began in a haughty tone, "What am I to understand, sir, by your telling me that your address was at my service?"

"Simply," answered Lovel, "that my name is Lovel, and that my residence is, for the present, Fairport, as you will see by this card!"

"And is this," said the soldier, "all the information you are disposed to give me?"

"I see no right you have to require more."

"I find you, sir, in company with my sister," said MacIntyre, "and I have a right to know who is admitted to her society."

"I shall take the liberty of disputing that right," replied Lovel, to the full as haughty in tone and manner.

"I presume then," said the young officer, "since you say you have served in his Majesty's army, you will give me the satisfaction usual among gentlemen."

"I shall not fail," said Lovel.

"Very well, sir," rejoined Hector, and turning his horse's head he galloped off to rejoin the party.

But his uncle suspected his purpose, and was determined to prevent a duel at all risks. He demanded where his nephew had been.

"I forgot my glove, sir," said Hector.

"Forgot your glove! You mean that you went to throw it down. But I will take order with you, young gentleman. You shall return with me this night to Monkbarns."

Yet in spite of the Antiquary the duel was easily enough arranged between these two over-hasty young men. It was the custom of the time to fight about trifles, and it seemed to Lovel that as a soldier he had really no honourable alternative. He was fortunate enough to find a second in the Lieutenant-commander of one of the King's gun-brigs, which was stationed on the coast to put down smuggling. Lieutenant Taffril only put one question to Lovel before offering him every assistance. He asked if there was anything whereof he was ashamed, in the circumstances which he had declined to communicate to MacIntyre.

"On my honour, no," said Lovel, "there is nothing but what, in a short time, I hope I may be able to communicate to the whole world."

The duel thus insolently provoked was to be fought with pistols within the ruins of St. Ruth, and as Lovel and his second came near the place of combat, they heard no sound save their own voices mingling with those of the sheep bleating peacefully to each other upon the opposite hill. On the stump of an old thorn tree within the ruins sat the venerable figure of old Edie Ochiltree. Edie had a message to deliver.

He told Lovel that he had been at the Sheriff's that very day, and had got it from the clerk himself that a warrant had been issued on Monkbarns's demand for the apprehension of Lovel. The old beggar had come hastily to warn the young man, thinking that perhaps it might be some matter of debt. But the appearance of Captain MacIntyre and his second, Mr. Lesley, soon informed him otherwise.

The antagonists approached and saluted with the stern civility of the place and occasion. MacIntyre instantly ordered the old fellow off the field.

"I am an auld fellow," said Edie, "but I am also an auld soldier of your father's, and I served with him in the 42nd."

"Serve where you please," said MacIntyre, hotly, "you have no title to intrude on us. Be off with you—or—"

He lifted his cane as if to threaten the old man. But the insult roused Edie's ancient courage.

"Hold down your switch, Captain MacIntyre! I am an auld soldier, and I'll tak' muckle from your father's son—but not a touch o' the wand while my pike-staff will hold together!"

"I was wrong—I was wrong," said MacIntyre, relenting, "here is a crown for you—go your ways."

But Edie refused the money, exhorting the young men to go and fight the French instead of each other, if they were so fighting hot. But neither his words nor the efforts of the seconds could reconcile MacIntyre to the man with whom he had from the first resolved to quarrel.

The ground was measured out by the seconds, while old Edie stood unheeded at the side muttering, "Bairns, bairns—madmen, I should rather say! Weel, your blood be on your heads!"

The fatal signal was given. Both fired almost at the same moment. Captain MacIntyre's ball grazed the side of his opponent, but failed to draw blood. That of Lovel was more true to the aim. MacIntyre reeled and fell. Raising himself on his arm, his first exclamation was: "It is nothing—it is nothing! Give us the other pistols!"

But the moment after he added in a lower tone: "I believe I have enough, and what's worse, I fear I deserve it. Mr. Lovel, or whatever your name is, fly and save yourself. Bear witness all of you, I alone provoked the quarrel."

Then raising himself on his arm, he added: "Shake hands, Lovel. I believe you to be a gentleman—forgive my rudeness, and I forgive you my death!"

Lovel stood dizzy and bewildered, while the ship's surgeon approached to do his part. But presently his arm was grasped by Edie, who hurried him off the field with the assistance of Lieutenant Taffril, his late second.

"He is right—he is right!" exclaimed Taffril, "go with him—there, into the wood—not by the highroad. Let him bring you to the sands at three of the morning. A boat will be in waiting to take you off to my brig, which will sail at once."

"Yes—fly—fly!" said the wounded man, his voice faltering as he spoke.

"It is madness to stay here," added Taffril.

"It was worse than madness ever to have come!" said Lovel, following his uncouth guide into the thicket. As he went up the valley he realised the bitterness of remorse that comes too late. He had passed that way in the morning, innocent, and now—he had the stain of blood upon his hands.