CHAPTER XV.

Nay, heed them not, fair Margaret; true, they are Untutor'd, and in 'haviour surly, rough; But they have hearts, nor unacquainted are With sturdy charities and strong affections-- As oft within the prickly husk lies lapt The sweetest kernel.

_Unpublished Poems._

The Countess of Nithsdale had intended to return for the present to Terreagles, till she could ascertain what course would be most pleasing to her husband, when, upon her return from Scone, she received a letter from the Duchess of Montrose, which decided at once what was the line of conduct it now became her duty, as well as her inclination, to pursue. The duchess's epistle was conceived in the following terms:--

"Though the late unfortunate events have separated Christian Montrose from her dear Lady Nithsdale, her friend and cousin must not imagine that she has forgotten the happy days she spent at Terreagles, or that the affection she then professed has aught abated. Trust me, dearest cousin, I have felt for you, as I am sure you would have felt for me, had the cause you have espoused proved successful, and had my husband been the sufferer in that which he esteems the just one.

"At my earnest request, my lord duke has constantly made inquiries concerning the prisoners in the Tower, and your good lord arrived there in health and safety on the 10th. I understand he is not inconveniently lodged, and I do not learn that he is in want of any necessary comforts; indeed, many of your party who have been slack in openly joining the insurrection, make peace with their consciences by supplying the Jacobite prisoners with money and luxuries of all kinds. I have heard say, that when in the streets it has been difficult to procure silver for a guinea, in the various prisons change for large sums might be procured in silver and in gold. They say also, that among the more wild and thoughtless of the prisoners, much mirth and revelry prevail; and, as I hear, they so confidently rely upon the merit of their unconditional surrender at Preston, that they trouble themselves but slightly concerning their approaching trials. It is reported, that the Earl of Derwentwater observed to your good lord, that many of his followers were fitter inhabitants for Bridewell than a state prison.

"Let not my dear cousin be needlessly alarmed, when I tell her that the lords will be impeached on the 10th of January, and that I have reason to believe my Lord Nithsdale would not now deem it unadvisable that she should repair to London. Indeed, I am informed that his most earnest wish is to see her; and I have no doubt that, supposing the result should not be so favourable as many of the more sanguine are inclined to believe, her presence may prove of service as well as of comfort to her lord.

"I should advise her to lodge herself privately, as, to my poor way of thinking, any appearance of rank or splendour may not be agreeable to those in power; and I think I am not mistaken when I say that the riotous mode of living of many of those in confinement does not serve to forward their cause.

"I would myself have visited the good Earl of Nithsdale, that I might have informed you how it fared with him, had it been fitting that I should do so openly; but my lord duke deemed such a measure would not be advisable; and as to visiting him privately, I feared that you and others might have suspected your noble husband of having learned from young Bottair of Athol, that a prisoner may be a very dangerous gallant, that--

'Stone walls do not a prison make.'

"'Mad-cap Christian,' as you called me once at Terreagles, is not so void of discretion as to run the risk of being taken for one of the 'divine Altheas' who come 'to whisper at the grate.'

"Indeed, I am sobered since those days; and these are times which may make the most unthinking reflect. Sad or merry, thoughtful or giddy, my heart is still with my dear cousin, and she may count on my willing services should the time arrive when they may be useful. She will not fail to let me know when she reaches London; and meanwhile she will believe me her faithful and affectionate friend

and cousin, Christian Montrose."

This letter had followed Lady Nithsdale from Terreagles, which had occasioned some delay in its coming to hand. It had been brought by Walter Elliot, an old and trusty servant, who had been ever in the confidence of his master, and on whom Lady Nithsdale had relied for advice and protection since the absence of her husband.

Her resolution was instantly taken; with Amy Evans and Walter Elliot she determined at all hazards to set forth upon her journey: but in the condition of the country at that period, means of conveyance were not easily procured; and it was highly expedient she should escape all observation: she therefore gladly availed herself of such steeds as Walter Elliot could procure in the exigency of the moment, and although totally unaccustomed to horse exercise, proceeded in this manner as far as Newcastle.

She there parted with the horses, and took the stage, thinking she should thus travel more expeditiously; and trusting that, when quite beyond the boundaries of Scotland, she was not so likely to be recognised. Such had been the tumult of her feelings, she had scarcely had time to be conscious of fatigue or cold, or to be aware of the strange and unusual companions with whom she was occasionally brought in contact. When, however, she found herself enveloped in her cloak, her hood brought low over her face, and ensconced in a corner of the heavy and lumbering vehicle, she found leisure to think, to feel, and to suffer.

The capacious coach contained several other passengers, but Lady Nithsdale heeded them not: their discourse turned chiefly on the comparative merits of different breeds of cattle and sheep, on Scottish Kyloes and Cheviot mutton, and she knew not what words they uttered, till her attention was suddenly arrested by one of them remarking, "The last time I journeyed along this road was some six months back; I had been as far as Hawick to buy some of those famous north-country sheep, and, to be sure, all those parts were in a fine disturbed state. I was obliged to come back without the sheep. Some thought their property was safer in sheep than in money, for whichsoever side got the upper hand, butchers' meat would still be wanted; others thought they should be sure of a good price when there were two armies, as it were, in the neighbourhood, and they asked twice their worth for the sheep. As for me, I would not give much hard money for the creatures, which might be taken from me, and killed, and then what should I do? There's no telling in troublous times what's justly the value of any thing, so I had my journey for my pains! and as I came back, those rebel lords were going about proclaiming their mock king, and a pretty penalty they are likely to pay for their folly. Why could not they be quiet, and enjoy themselves at their own great houses, where they say the Earl of Derwentwater lived like a prince, and was beloved by great and small: and why could not they let us enjoy ourselves too? Farming went well while good Queen Anne lived; crops were pretty fair, and prices held steady, and I don't know what folks would have more, not I!"

"Well, it all bids fair to be quiet enough now," replied a rough-looking farmer who sat opposite; "they'll settle old scores with them all. They have made away with a pretty many of them at once at Preston; and I know for certain that the king means to have off the heads of every one of those he has got up at London now, so they will make no more disturbance!"

Amy turned an uneasy glance upon her lady, whose bosom she could perceive heaved rapidly beneath the folds of her cloak; but her face was towards the window, and the black hood concealed it from all within the coach. She feared to draw attention upon her, and she remained tranquil.

"Nay, I can't think the king will have all their heads off either," rejoined the first spokesman. "Why, there are as many as twenty lords, to say nothing of knights, and gentlemen, and members of parliament, and such."

"I have been informed that such are his most gracious majesty's intentions," answered the yeoman, with the importance of a privy-councillor.

"For God's sake, what is your authority?" exclaimed the Countess of Nithsdale, unable any longer to control her feelings.

"Young mistress, I do not consider myself called upon to give up those who tell me a bit of news."

"Well, neighbour, you need not be so touchy about your news; who knows but the young woman may have a friend among some of the rebels, and she need not be the more of a rebel herself! Brothers and sisters, fathers and sons, have taken different sides, but they are not the less relations for that. Ah! that's one of the misfortunes of these civil wars! They're not like a good war with the French, or the Dutch, or the Spanish; when you know for certain that every _parlez-vous_, and every mynheer, and every Don, is your enemy. But when people of one country take to fighting, why, if you chance to be in a battle, you don't know who you may be killing; and if you chance to tell a bit of news promiscuously, you don't know whose feelings you may be hurting. Folks should not be over free of their speech in these times; and, I ask your pardon, neighbour, but you should not be so positive about what such as you and I can't know. Don't you look so sad, mistress. How should we, any of us, know what the king's thoughts are?"

"But we may know those who do know what the king's thoughts are: not that I wish to hurt the gentlewoman's feelings." And the farmer relapsed into silence, somewhat offended at the doubt with which his annunciation of the sovereign's private sentiments had been received.

"Are you from Scotland, madam?" resumed the good-natured yeoman, whose curiosity was somewhat awakened by Lady Nithsdale's evident emotion.

"Yes, sir," answered Amy quickly. "My friend and I come from Scotland last, but we are natives of Wales;" which, although strictly true, would, she imagined, lead their new acquaintances from suspecting who they really were.

"And are ye for London now, my pretty lass?"

"Yes, sir; our friends live in London now."

"If this snow goes on falling at such a rate, why, I think we shall never get to York; and as for you, you will never get to London. I'll be bound the stage will be stopped to-morrow. I declare there's no making out the hedge from the ditch, the snow has drifted so in some places. I don't know that I ever remember such a hard winter as this has been. My poor ewes!" he continued, shaking his head, "I fear I shall have bad luck with them! However, 'tis as the Lord pleases! I dare say 'tis all for the best. If we have quiet times, and we have nothing to fight against but the seasons, as God sends them to us, we shall do well enough. As long as we are in the Lord's hands, and have only the troubles He sees fit to try us with, and none of those man makes for himself, it will all be right! Is not that true, young woman?"

"Indeed, sir, I am no judge of public matters," replied Lady Nithsdale in a faltering voice, for she felt that it had been the Jacobites who had disturbed the public tranquillity; and true and reasonable as was the sentiment expressed by the yeoman, she could not echo it without throwing blame on those she most loved and honoured, or without belying the opinions and the feelings of her whole life.

"Humph!" replied the yeoman: "I do not call those public matters. I think I have said nothing but what every good Christian should say amen to. I don't see how anybody can help saying 'tis better to be in the hands of the Lord than of men, not I."

"Nor I, indeed!" exclaimed Lady Nithsdale with fervour. "O Lord, take us into thy hands, and deal with us according to thy mercy!"

"Well, that's much what I said, only not in such a way. Verily, if I don't believe she is one of the new Dissenters that have sprung up of late!"

Amy Evans, anxious to withdraw observation from her lady, asked him some question concerning his flock; and, affecting great interest in such matters, she was enabled, from her youthful Welsh education, to converse with sufficient knowledge of the subject to lead the honest unsuspicious farmer into a detail of his own plans and systems, in which he readily forgot what had at first excited his surprise in the bearing of the silent and serious young gentlewoman.

By the time they reached York, his prediction concerning the weather was fully verified: the wheels of the heavy vehicle could scarcely cut through the deep snow; and so slow was their progress, that it had long been dark before the stage arrived at its destination in one of the most dismal streets of the ancient city of York.

The snow continued to fall during the whole of the night, and the next morning the roads were found to be so totally impassable, that not only were all stage-coaches and carriages of every description arrested in their progress, but the post itself was stopped.

Lady Nithsdale's disappointment amounted almost to despair. Every hour was precious. The letter which announced her husband's wish to see her had already been somewhat delayed on the road, and the duchess said that on her exertions might depend the mode in which his case might be looked upon. She thought, too, on his desolate, his forlorn condition; she judged from her own feelings how intensely he must desire her presence; and she deemed any hardship, any suffering, preferable to the mental anxiety of being shut up in York, unable to hear of him, to communicate with him, to exert herself for him.

The long period of suspense and of forced inactivity which she had passed at Terreagles had been almost insupportably irksome; and now, when her lord had expressed a wish for her company, when possibly she might be of real service to him, to be imprisoned in a dismal room in an inn at York:--it was an infliction not to be endured.

She again employed Walter Elliot to procure three saddle-horses; and, in spite of his dutiful remonstrances, and all unused as she had ever been to brave the inclemencies of the weather, or to encounter any bodily fatigue, she set off on horseback, through roads in which the snow often came up to the girths of the saddle. To Amy, who had been a mountain-bred lass--who had often wandered about her native hills on the rough Welsh ponies--the undertaking was not one of such difficulty; though she feared the strength of her delicately nurtured lady would never stand such hardships; but the soul which animated that apparently fragile form was such as to communicate to the frame some of its own power and elasticity. As they rode out of the town, the sun shone forth in dazzling splendour upon the brilliant whiteness of the scene. The roof of each house was clothed with a thick soft covering of newly-fallen snow, which the smoke of the town had not yet tarnished, though the power of the sun had already melted it in some degree, so that each gable was ornamented with a fringe of long pendent icicles. As they quitted the town and waded through the obstructed road, still the same dazzling whiteness presented itself to their view: the load which bent down the branches of the trees was not yet dissolved; and when the small birds, twittering in the welcome sunshine, lighted on a feathered spray, they shook from it a shower of bright snow-flakes.

To a mind at ease the scene was beautiful and cheerful; and Lady Nithsdale in the midst of her sorrows felt grateful for the cheering light and for the clear pure atmosphere.