Fiction > Serialisations > London, 1893 - David Balfour

66o
r>A VI D B ALFO U R.
•' But ye'U be for a bite ar ye go ? " said he.
" Neither bite nor sup/' said I. " I had a good
waucht of millc in by Ratho."'
" Aweel, aweel," said Doig. " But yell can
leave your horse here and your bags, for it seems
we're to have your up-put.'"
" Na, na," said I. " Tamson's mare"'" would
never be the thing for me this day of all days."
Doig speaking somewhat broad, I had been led
by imitation into an accent much more countrified
than I was usually careful to affect, a good deal
broader indeed than I have written it down ; and
I was the more ashamed when another voice joined
in behind me with a scrap of a ballad :
" Gar saddle me the bonny black,
Gar saddle sune and make him ready,
Far I will down the gatehope-slack,
And a' to see my bonny leddy."
The young lady, when I turned to her, stood in
a morning gown, and her hands muffled in the
same as if to hold me at a distance. Yet I could
not but think there was kindness in the eye with
which she saw me.
" My best respects to you, Mistress Grant," said
I, bowing.
" The like to yourself, Mr. David," she replied,
with a deep courtesy. " And I beg to remind you
of an old musty saw, that meat and mass never
hindered man. The mass I cannot afford you, for
we are all good Protestants. But the meat I press
on your attention. And I would not wonder but I
could find something for your private ear that
would be worth the stopping for."
" Mistress Grant," said I, " I believe I am
already your debtor for some merry words — and I
think they were kind too — on a piece of unsigned
paper."
" Unsigned paper ? " says she, and made a droll
face, which was likewise wondrous beautiful, as of
one trying to remember.
" Or else I am the more deceived," I went on.
" But to be sure, we shall have the time to speak
of these, since your father is so good as to make
me for awhile your inmate ; and the gomeral begs
you at this time only for the favour of his liberty."
"You give yourself hard names," said she.
" Mr. Doig and I would be blythe to take
harder at your clever pen," says I.
" Once more I have to admire the discretion of
* Tamson's mare, to go afoot.
all men-folk," she rephed. " But if you will not
eat, off with you at once ; you will be back the
sooner, for you go on a fool's errand. Off with
you, Mr. David," she continued, opening the door.
" He has lowpen on his bonny grey,
He rade the richt gate and the ready ;
I trow he would neither stint nor stay,
Far he was seeking his bonny leddy."
I did not want to be bidden twice, and did
justice to Miss Grant's citation on the way to
Dean.
Old Lady Allardyce walked there alone in the
garden, in her hat and mutch, and having a silver-
mounted staff of some black wood to lean upon.
As I alighted from my horse, and drew near to her
with congees, I could see the blood come in her
face, and her head fling into the air like what I
had conceived of empresses.
" What brings you to my poor door ? " she cried
speaking high through her nose. " I cannot bar it.
The males of my house are dead and buried ; I
have neither son nor husband to stand in the gate
for me ; any begger can pluck me by the baird""^' —
and a baird there is, and that's the worst of it yet!"
she added, partly to herself.
I was extremely put out at this reception, and
the last remark, which seemed like a daft wife's,
left me near hand speechless.
" I see I have fallen under your displeasure,
ma'am," said I. " Yet I will still be so bold as to
ask after Mistress Drummond."
She considered me with a burning eye, her lips
pressed close together into twenty creases, her
hand shaking on her staff. " This cows all ! " she
cried. " Ye come to me to spier for her? "Would
God I knew I "
" She is not here ? " I cried.
She threw up her chin and made a step and a
cry at me, so that I fell back incontinent.
" Out upon your leeing throat ! " she cried.
" What ! ye leave the house together, I ken ye, at
ill words ; the jaud's gane. The last I hear of her
she's in jyle, whaur ye took her to — that'll be all
there is to it. And of a' the beings ever I beheld in
breeks to think it should be you ! Ye timmer j
scoun'rel, if I had a male left to my name I would
have your jaicket dustit till ye raired."
I thought it not good to delay longer in that
place because I remarked her passion to be rising.
* Beard.