Redgauntlet: A Tale of the Eighteenth Century by Walter Scott (classic romance novels txt) 📗

The help which I now render you is all that may be in my power; it is such as I should render to a blind man whom I might observe approaching the verge of a precipice; it ought to excite no surprise, and requires no gratitude.’

So saying, she again turned from me, nor did she address me until the dance was on the point of ending, when she said, ‘Do not attempt to speak to or approach me again in the course of the night; leave the company as soon as you can, but not abruptly, and God be with you.’

I handed her to her seat, and did not quit the fair palm I held, without expressing my feelings by a gentle pressure. She coloured slightly, and withdrew her hand, but not angrily. Seeing the eyes of Cristal and Mabel sternly fixed on me, I bowed deeply, and withdrew from her; my heart saddening, and my eyes becoming dim in spite of me, as the shifting crowd hid us from each other.

It was my intention to have crept back to my comrade Willie, and resumed my bow with such spirit as I might, although, at the moment, I would have given half my income for an instant’s solitude. But my retreat was cut off by Dame Martin, with the frankness—if it is not an inconsistent phrase-of rustic coquetry, that goes straight up to the point.

‘Aye, lad, ye seem unco sune weary, to dance sae lightly? Better the nag that ambles a’ the day, than him that makes a brattle for a mile, and then’s dune wi’ the road.’

This was a fair challenge, and I could not decline accepting it. Besides, I could see Dame Martin was queen of the revels; and so many were the rude and singular figures about me, that I was by no means certain whether I might not need some protection. I seized on her willing hand, and we took our places in the dance, where, if I did not acquit myself with all the accuracy of step and movement which I had before attempted, I at least came up to the expectations of my partner, who said, and almost swore, ‘I was prime at it;’ while, stimulated to her utmost exertions, she herself frisked like a kid, snapped her fingers like castanets, whooped like a Bacchanal, and bounded from the floor like a tennis-ball,—aye, till the colour of her garters was no particular mystery. She made the less secret of this, perhaps, that they were sky-blue, and fringed with silver.

The time has been that this would have been special fun; or rather, last night was the only time I can recollect these four years when it would not have been so; yet, at this moment, I cannot tell you how I longed to be rid of Dame Martin. I almost wished she would sprain one of those ‘many-twinkling’ ankles, which served her so alertly; and when, in the midst of her exuberant caprioling, I saw my former partner leaving the apartment, and with eyes, as I thought, turning towards me, this unwillingness to carry on the dance increased to such a point, that I was almost about to feign a sprain or a dislocation myself, in order to put an end to the performance. But there were around me scores of old women, all of whom looked as if they might have some sovereign recipe for such an accident; and, remembering Gil Blas, and his pretended disorder in the robber’s cavern, I thought it as wise to play Dame Martin fair, and dance till she thought proper to dismiss me. What I did I resolved to do strenuously, and in the latter part of the exhibition I cut and sprang from the floor as high and as perpendicularly as Dame Martin herself; and received, I promise you, thunders of applause, for the common people always prefer exertion and agility to grace. At length Dame Martin could dance no more, and, rejoicing at my release, I led her to a seat, and took the privilege of a partner to attend her.

‘Hegh, sirs,’ exclaimed Dame Martin, ‘I am sair forfoughen! Troth! callant, I think ye hae been amaist the death o’ me.’

I could only atone for the alleged offence by fetching her some refreshment, of which she readily partook.

‘I have been lucky in my partners,’ I said, ‘first that pretty young lady, and then you, Mrs. Martin.’

‘Hout wi’ your fleeching,’ said Dame Martin. ‘Gae wa—gae wa, lad; dinna blaw in folk’s lugs that gate; me and Miss Lilias even’d thegither! Na, na, lad—od, she is maybe four or five years younger than the like o’ me,—bye and attour her gentle havings.’

‘She is the laird’s daughter?’ said I, in as careless a tone of inquiry as I could assume.

‘His daughter, man? Na, na, only his niece—and sib aneugh to him, I think.’

‘Aye, indeed,’ I replied; ‘I thought she had borne his name?’

‘She bears her ain name, and that’s Lilias.’

‘And has she no other name?’ asked I.

‘What needs she another till she gets a gudeman?’ answered my Thetis, a little miffed perhaps—to use the women’s phrase—that I turned the conversation upon my former partner, rather than addressed it to herself.

There was a little pause, which was interrupted by Dame Martin observing, ‘They are standing up again.’

‘True,’ said I, having no mind to renew my late violent CAPRIOLE, and I must go help old Willie.’

Ere I could extricate myself, I heard poor Thetis address herself to a sort of merman in a jacket of seaman’s blue, and a pair of trousers (whose hand, by the way, she had rejected at an earlier part of the evening) and intimate that she was now disposed to take a trip.

‘Trip away, then, dearie,’ said the vindictive man of the waters, without offering his hand; ‘there,’ pointing to the floor, ‘is a roomy berth for you.’

Certain I had made one enemy, and perhaps two, I hastened to my original seat beside Willie, and began to handle my bow. But I could see that my conduct had made an unfavourable impression; the words, ‘flory conceited chap,’—‘hafflins gentle,’ and at length, the still more alarming epithet of ‘spy,’ began to be buzzed about, and I was heartily glad when the apparition of Sam’s visage at the door, who was already possessed of and draining a can of punch, gave me assurance that my means of retreat were at hand. I intimated as much to Willie, who probably had heard more of the murmurs of the company than I had, for he whispered, ‘Aye, aye,—awa wi’ ye—ower lang here—slide out canny—dinna let them see ye are on the tramp.’

I slipped half a guinea into the old man’s hand, who answered, ‘Truts pruts! nonsense but I ‘se no refuse, trusting ye can afford it. Awa wi’ ye—and if ony body stops ye, cry on me.’

I glided, by his advice, along the room as if looking for a partner, joined Sam, whom I disengaged with some difficulty from his can, and we left the cottage together in a manner to attract the least possible observation. The horses were tied in a neighbouring shed, and as the moon was up, and I was now familiar with the road, broken and complicated as it is, we soon reached the Shepherd’s Bush, where the old landlady was sitting up waiting for us, under some anxiety of mind, to account for which she did not hesitate to