Redgauntlet: A Tale of the Eighteenth Century by Walter Scott (classic romance novels txt) 📗
- Author: Walter Scott
Book online «Redgauntlet: A Tale of the Eighteenth Century by Walter Scott (classic romance novels txt) 📗». Author Walter Scott
‘A prisoner, then, you must be,’ said Redgauntlet. ‘I have no time to dispute the matter further with you. But tell me for what you fix your eyes so attentively on yonder people of mine.’
‘To speak the truth,’ said the Quaker, ‘I admire to behold among them a little wretch of a boy called Benjie, to whom I think Satan has given the power of transporting himself wheresoever mischief is going forward; so that it may be truly said, there is no evil in this land wherein he hath not a finger, if not a whole hand.’
The boy, who saw their eyes fixed on him as they spoke, seemed embarrassed, slid rather desirous of making his escape; but at a signal from Redgauntlet he advanced, assuming the sheepish look and rustic manner with which the jackanapes covered much acuteness and roguery.
‘How long have you been with the party, sirrah?’ said Redgauntlet.
‘Since the raid on the stake-nets,’ said Benjie, with his finger in his mouth.
‘And what made you follow us?’
‘I dauredna stay at hame for the constables,’ replied the boy.
‘And what have you been doing all this time?’
‘Doing, sir? I dinna ken what ye ca’ doing—I have been doing naething,’ said Benjie; then seeing something in Redgauntlet’s eye which was not to be trifled with, he added, ‘Naething but waiting on Maister Cristal Nixon.’
‘Hum!—aye—indeed?’ muttered Redgauntlet. ‘Must Master Nixon bring his own retinue into the field? This must be seen to.’
He was about to pursue his inquiry, when Nixon himself came to him with looks of anxious haste, ‘The Father is come,’ he whispered, ‘and the gentlemen are getting together in the largest room of the house, and they desire to see you. Yonder is your nephew, too, making a noise like a man in Bedlam.’
‘I will look to it all instantly,’ said Redgauntlet. ‘Is the Father lodged as I directed?’
Cristal nodded.
‘Now, then, for the final trial,’ said Redgauntlet. He folded his hands—looked upwards—crossed himself—and after this act of devotion (almost the first which any one had observed him make use of) he commanded Nixon to keep good watch—have his horses and men ready for every emergence—look after the safe custody of the prisoners—but treat them at the same time well and civilly. And, these orders given, he darted hastily into the house.
CHAPTER XXII NARRATIVE CONTINUED
Redgauntlet’s first course was to the chamber of his nephew. He unlocked the door, entered the apartment, and asked what he wanted, that he made so much noise.
‘I want my liberty,’ said Darsie, who had wrought himself up to a pitch of passion in which his uncle’s wrath had lost its terrors. ‘I desire my liberty, and to be assured of the safety of my beloved friend, Alan Fairford, whose voice I heard but now.’
‘Your liberty shall be your own within half an hour from this period—your friend shall be also set at freedom in due time—and you yourself be permitted to have access to his place of confinement.’
‘This does not satisfy me,’ said Darsie; ‘I must see my friend instantly; he is here, and he is here endangered on my account only—I have heard violent exclamations—the clash of swords. You will gain no point with me unless I have ocular demonstration of his safety.’
‘Arthur—dearest nephew,’ answered Redgauntlet, ‘drive me not mad! Thine own fate—that of thy house—that of thousands—that of Britain herself, are at this moment in the scales; and you are only occupied about the safety of a poor insignificant pettifogger!’
‘He has sustained injury at your hands, then?’ said Darsie, fiercely. ‘I know he has; but if so, not even our relationship shall protect you.’
‘Peace, ungrateful and obstinate fool!’ said Redgauntlet. Yet stay—will you be satisfied if you see this Alan Fairford, the bundle of bombazine—this precious friend of yours—well and sound? Will you, I say, be satisfied with seeing him in perfect safety without attempting to speak to or converse with him?’ Darsie signified his assent. ‘Take hold of my arm, then,’ said Redgauntlet; ‘and do you, niece Lilias, take the other; and beware; Sir Arthur, how you bear yourself.’
Darsie was compelled to acquiesce, sufficiently aware that his uncle would permit him no interview with a friend whose influence would certainly be used against his present earnest wishes, and in some measure contented with the assurance of Fairford’s personal safety.
Redgauntlet led them through one or two passages (for the house, as we have before said, was very irregular, and built at different times) until they entered an apartment, where a man with shouldered carabine kept watch at the door, but readily turned the key for their reception. In this room they found Alan Fairford and the Quaker, apparently in deep conversation with each other. They looked up as Redgauntlet and his party entered; and Alan pulled off his hat and made a profound reverence, which the young lady, who recognized him,—though, masked as she was, he could not know her,—returned with some embarrassment, arising probably from the recollection of the bold step she had taken in visiting him.
Darsie longed to speak, but dared not. His uncle only said, ‘Gentlemen, I know you are as anxious on Mr. Darsie Latimer’s account as he is upon yours. I am commissioned by him to inform you, that he is as well as you are—I trust you will all meet soon. Meantime, although I cannot suffer you to be at large, you shall be as well treated as is possible under your temporary confinement.’
He passed on, without pausing to hear the answers which the lawyer and the Quaker were hastening to prefer; and only waving his hand by way of adieu, made his exit, with the real and the seeming lady whom he had under his charge, through a door at the upper end of the apartment, which was fastened and guarded like that by which they entered.
Redgauntlet next led the way into a very small room; adjoining which, but divided by a partition, was one of apparently larger dimensions; for they heard the trampling of the heavy boots of the period, as if several persons were walking to and fro and conversing in low and anxious whispers.
‘Here,’ said Redgauntlet to his nephew, as he disencumbered him from the riding-skirt and the mask, ‘I restore you to yourself, and trust you will lay aside all effeminate thoughts with this feminine dress. Do not blush at having worn a disguise to which kings and heroes have been reduced. It is when female craft or female cowardice find their way into a manly bosom, that he who entertains these sentiments should
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