David Balfour Read online

  CHAPTER V

  IN THE ADVOCATE'S HOUSE

  The next day, Sabbath, August 27th, I had the occasion I had long lookedforward to, to hear some of the famous Edinburgh preachers, all wellknown to me already by the report of Mr. Campbell. Alas! and I mightjust as well have been at Essendean, and sitting under Mr. Campbell'sworthy self! the turmoil of my thoughts, which dwelt continually on theinterview with Prestongrange, inhibiting me from all attention. I wasindeed much less impressed by the reasoning of the divines than by thespectacle of the thronged congregation in the churches, like what Iimagined of a theatre or (in my then disposition) of an assize of trial;above all at the West Kirk, with its three tiers of galleries, where Iwent in the vain hope that I might see Miss Drummond.

  On the Monday I betook me for the first time to a barber's, and was verywell pleased with the result. Thence to the Advocate's, where the redcoats of the soldiers showed again about his door, making a bright placein the close. I looked about for the young lady and her gillies; therewas never a sign of them. But I was no sooner shown into the cabinet orantechamber, where I had spent so wearyful a time upon the Saturday,than I was aware of the tall figure of James More in a corner. He seemeda prey to a painful uneasiness, reaching forth his feet and hands, andhis eyes speeding here and there without rest about the walls of thesmall chamber, which recalled to me with a sense of pity the man'swretched situation. I suppose it was partly this, and partly my strongcontinuing interest in his daughter, that moved me to accost him.

  "Give you a good-morning, sir," said I.

  "And a good-morning to you, sir," said he.

  "You bide tryst with Prestongrange?" I asked.

  "I do, sir, and I pray your business with that gentleman be moreagreeable than mine," was his reply.

  "I hope at least that yours will be brief, for I suppose you pass beforeme," said I.

  "All pass before me," he said, with a shrug and a gesture upward of theopen hands. "It was not always so, sir, but times change. It was not sowhen the sword was in the scale, young gentleman, and the virtues of thesoldier might sustain themselves."

  There came a kind of Highland snuffle out of the man that raised mydander strangely.

  "Well, Mr. Macgregor," said I, "I understand the main thing for asoldier is to be silent, and the first of his virtues never tocomplain."

  "You have my name, I perceive"--he bowed to me with his armscrossed--"though it's one I must not use myself. Well, there is apublicity--I have shown my face and told my name too often in the beardsof my enemies. I must not wonder if both should be known to many that Iknow not."

  "That you know not in the least, sir," said I, "nor yet anybody else;but the name I am called, if you care to hear it, is Balfour."

  "It is a good name," he replied, civilly; "there are many decent folkthat use it. And now that I call to mind, there was a young gentleman,your namesake, that marched surgeon in the year '45 with my battalion."

  "I believe that would be a brother to Balfour of Baith," said I, for Iwas ready for the surgeon now.

  "The same, sir," said James More. "And since I have been fellow-soldierwith your kinsman, you must suffer me to grasp your hand."

  He shook hands with me long and tenderly, beaming on me the while asthough he had found a brother.

  "Ah!" says he, "these are changed days since your cousin and I heard theballs whistle in our lugs."

  "I think he was a very far-away cousin," said I, drily, "and I ought totell you that I never clapped eyes upon the man."

  "Well, well," said he, "it makes no change. And you--I do not think youwere out yourself, sir--I have no clear mind of your face, which is onenot probable to be forgotten."

  "In the year you refer to, Mr. Macgregor, I was getting skelped in theparish school," said I.

  "So young!" cries he. "Ah, then you will never be able to think whatthis meeting is to me. In the hour of my adversity, and in the house ofmy enemy, to meet in with the blood of an old brother-in-arms--itheartens me, Mr. Balfour, like the skirling of the Highland pipes! Sir,this is a sad look-back that many of us have to make: some with fallingtears. I have lived in my own country like a king; my sword, mymountains, and the faith of my friends and kinsmen sufficed for me. NowI lie in a stinking dungeon; and do you know, Mr. Balfour," he went on,taking my arm and beginning to lead me about, "do you know, sir, that Ilack mere necessaries? The malice of my foes has quite sequestered myresources. I lie, as you know, sir, on a trumped-up charge, of which Iam as innocent as yourself. They dare not bring me to my trial, and inthe meanwhile I am held naked in my prison. I could have wished it wasyour cousin I had met, or his brother Baith himself. Either would, Iknow, have been rejoiced to help me; while a comparative stranger likeyourself--"

  I would be ashamed to set down all he poured out to me in this beggarlyvein, or the very short and grudging answers that I made to him. Therewere times when I was tempted to stop his mouth with some small change;but whether it was from shame or pride--whether it was for my own sakeor Catriona's--whether it was because I thought him no fit father forhis daughter, or because I resented that grossness of immediate falsitythat clung about the man himself--the thing was clean beyond me. And Iwas still being wheedled and preached to, and still being marched to andfro, three steps and a turn, in that small chamber, and had already, bysome very short replies, highly incensed, although not finallydiscouraged, my beggar, when Prestongrange appeared in the doorway andbade me eagerly into his big chamber.

  "I have a moment's engagement," said he; "and that you may not sitempty-handed I am going to present you to my three braw daughters, ofwhom perhaps you may have heard, for I think they are more famous thanpapa. This way."

  He led me into another long room above, where a dry old lady sat at aframe of embroidery, and the three handsomest young women (I suppose) inScotland stood together by a window.

  "This is my new friend, Mr. Balfour," said he, presenting me by the arm."David, here is my sister, Miss Grant, who is so good as keep my housefor me, and will be very pleased if she can help you. And here," sayshe, turning to the three younger ladies, "here are my _three brawdauchters_. A fair question to ye, Mr. Davie: which of the three is thebest favoured? And I wager he will never have the impudence to propoundhonest Alan Ramsay's answer!"

  Hereupon all three, and the old Miss Grant as well, cried out againstthis sally, which (as I was acquainted with the verses he referred to)brought shame into my own cheek. It seemed to me a citation unpardonablein a father, and I was amazed that these ladies could laugh even whilethey reproved, or made believe to.

  Under cover of this mirth, Prestongrange got forth of the chamber, and Iwas left, like a fish upon dry land, in that very unsuitable society. Icould never deny, in looking back upon what followed, that I waseminently stockish; and I must say the ladies were well drilled to haveso long a patience with me. The aunt indeed sat close at her embroidery,only looking now and again and smiling; but the misses, and especiallythe eldest, who was besides the most handsome, paid me a score ofattentions which I was very ill able to repay. It was all in vain totell myself I was a young fellow of some worth as well as good estate,and had no call to feel abashed before these lasses, the eldest not somuch older than myself, and no one of them by any probability half aslearned. Reasoning would not change the fact; and there were times whenthe colour came into my face to think I was shaved that day for thefirst time.

  The talk going, with all their endeavours, very heavily, the eldest tookpity on my awkwardness, sat down to her instrument, of which she was apassed mistress, and entertained me for a while with playing andsinging, both in the Scots and in the Italian manners; this put me moreat my ease, and being reminded of Alan's air that he had taught me inthe hole near Carriden, I made so bold as to whistle a bar or two, andask if she knew that.

  She shook her head. "I never heard a note of it," said she. "Whistle itall through. And now once again," she added, after I had done so.

  Then she picked it out upon the keyboar
d, and (to my surprise) instantlyenriched the same with well-sounding chords, and sang, as she played,with a very droll expression and broad accent:

  "Haenae I got just the lilt of it? Isnae this the tune that ye whustled?"

  "You see," she says, "I can do the poetry too, only it won't rhyme." Andthen again:

  "I am Miss Grant, sib to the Advocate: You, I believe, are Dauvit Balfour."

  I told her how much astonished I was by her genius.

  "And what do you call the name of it?" she asked.

  "I do not know the real name," said I. "I just call it _Alan's air_."

  She looked at me directly in the face. "I shall call it _David's air_,"said she; "though if it's the least like what your namesake of Israelplayed to Saul I would never wonder that the king got little good by it,for it's but melancholy music. Your other name I do not like; so, if youwas ever wishing to hear your tune again you are to ask for it by mine."

  This was said with a significance that gave my heart a jog. "Why that,Miss Grant?" I asked.

  "Why," says she, "if ever you should come to get hanged, I will set yourlast dying speech and confession to that tune and sing it."

  This put it beyond a doubt that she was partly informed of my story andperil. How, or just how much, it was more difficult to guess. It wasplain she knew there was something of danger in the name of Alan, andthus warned me to leave it out of reference; and plain she knew that Istood under some criminal suspicion. I judged besides that the harshnessof her last speech (which besides she had followed up immediately with avery noisy piece of music) was to put an end to the presentconversation. I stood beside her, affecting to listen and admire, buttruly whirled away by my own thoughts. I have always found this younglady to be a lover of the mysterious; and certainly this first interviewmade a mystery that was beyond my plummet. One thing I learned longafter, the hours of the Sunday had been well employed, the bank porterhad been found and examined, my visit to Charles Stewart was discovered,and the deduction made that I was pretty deep with James and Alan, andmost likely in a continued correspondence with the last. Hence thisbroad hint that was given me across the harpsichord.

  In the midst of the piece of music, one of the younger misses, who wasat a window over the close, cried on her sisters to come quick, forthere was "_Grey eyes_ again." The whole family trooped there at once,and crowded one another for a look. The window whither they ran was inan odd corner of that room, gave above the entrance door, and flanked upthe close.

  "Come, Mr. Balfour," they cried, "come and see. She is the mostbeautiful creature! She hangs round the close-head these last days,always with some wretched-like gillies, and yet seems quite a lady."

  I had no need to look; neither did I look twice, or long. I was afraidshe might have seen me there, looking down upon her from that chamber ofmusic, and she without, and her father in the same house, perhapsbegging for his life with tears, and myself come but newly fromrejecting his petitions. But even that glance set me in a better conceitof myself, and much less awe of the young ladies. They were beautiful,that was beyond question, but Catriona was beautiful too, and had a kindof brightness in her like a coal of fire. As much as the others cast medown, she lifted me up. I remembered I had talked easily with her. If Icould make no hand of it with these fine maids, it was perhaps somethingtheir own fault. My embarrassment began to be a little mingled andlightened with a sense of fun; and when the aunt smiled at me from herembroidery, and the three daughters unbent to me like a baby, all with"papa's orders" written on their faces, there were times when I couldhave found it in my heart to smile myself.

  Presently papa returned, the same kind, happy-like, pleasant-spoken man.

  "Now, girls," said he, "I must take Mr. Balfour away again; but I hopeyou have been able to persuade him to return where I shall be alwaysgratified to find him."

  So they each made me a little farthing compliment, and I was led away.

  If this visit to the family had been meant to soften my resistance, itwas the worst of failures. I was no such ass but what I understood howpoor a figure I had made, and that the girls would be yawning their jawsoff as soon as my stiff back was turned. I felt I had shown how little Ihad in me of what was soft and graceful; and I longed for a chance toprove that I had something of the other stuff, the stern and dangerous.

  Well, I was to be served to my desire, for the scene to which he wasconducting me was of a different character.

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