Scotland/Scots > Wilson's tales of the Borders and of Scotland > Volume 3

THE SOMNAMBULIST OF REDCLEUGH.
23
De Vayer, the inmates enjoyed exceedingly the imputed
madness of the visiting physician. The same play is acted
in the world all throughout. Our insanity has only a little
more method in it—and while I avoid any description of
the madness of Mrs. Bernard, I will have to set forth a
story, which, leading to that madness, has in it apparently
as much of insanity as may be found in the ravings of a
maniac.
I obeyed the call to Redcleugh, where I found the res
domi in a peculiar position. There were few inmates in
the large old house. Besides the invalid herself, there was
an old cook and a butler, by name Francis, who had been
in the family for many years, and whose garrulity was
supplied from an inexhaustible fountain—the fate and for¬
tunes of the Bernards. My patient was a lovely woman
in body—a maniac in mind. Her affliction had suddenly
shot up into her brain, and left untouched the lineaments
of her beauty, excepting the expression of the eye, which
had become nervous and furtive, oscillating between the
extreme of softness and the intensity of ferocity. Having
been cautioned by Francis to make no allusion to her
husband or to certain children, whom he named, or to the
word “ book,” and many other things, I contented myself,
in the first instance, with a general examination of her
symptoms; and, as it was late before I arrived, I resolved
upon remaining all night, which would enable me to see
her again in the morning. I had supper served up to me
by Francis, who brought me some wine which had been in
the house for fifty years, and told me stories of the family,
extending back twice that period. Sometimes these old
legends would be interrupted for a moment by a shrill cry,
coming from a source which we both knew. All else in
this house was under the spell of Angerana, the genius of
silence. There is something peculiar in the sound of a
common voice in a large house, filled with, memorials of