Tales from Blackwood Volume Vii Part 13

"Oh, Jane! Jane! we're lost--ruined--murdered! Waiter, _I'm_ the sister of Ben-na-Groich, the victim of Fash-na-Cairn!"

"Sorry, ma'am, I've alarmed you; but, perhaps, the friends of the clan may gather round Ben-na-Groich, and succeed in capturing Fash-na-Cairn."

"And what then?" inquired Miss Alice, with a glimpse of hope.

"Oh, then, it is the universal custom for the next in blood of the chieftain, if she be unmarried, to cut off a finger of the prisoner every day with an old hereditary hatchet kept for that purpose, till he relents, and offers to make her his bride. If he does so before he has lost the fingers of both hands, the feud is at an end."

Miss Alice shuddered at the thoughts of cutting off a young man's fingers.

"Oh, waiter, this is dreadful news! I'm certain my poor brother knew nothing of this when he purchased that horrible property. And what will they do to _him_ if the furry succeeds?"

"Tie him up in a wolf's skin, and hunt him to death with bloodhounds."

"My poor brother, my poor brother! And he so fat, and subject to the gout! But it's quite true--it's exactly what they did to the Bohemian in _Quentin Durward_."

"The present Fash-na-Cairn is a descendant of Le Balafre."

"Oh, the monster! Have they no police at Ben-na-Groich, nor even special constables?--no justice of peace?"

"The only justice there is the dirk and claymore. But the young lady seems revived now. Do you take supper? I'll send the chambermaid directly, ma'am."

When the historical and veracious waiter left the room, the long and stately figure of Miss Alice sank slowly down upon the sofa. Jane Somers's face was buried in her hands, and, by the tremors that ran through her whole frame, and the redness of what was visible of her cheeks and neck, it was evident that she was nearly in convulsions with some powerfully suppressed feeling. The aunt, of course, considered it to be the result of terror, whatever sager guess the reader may make upon the subject, and gave way to a fit of dolorous lamentation, that did not much contribute to her niece's recovery.

"This comes of pride, and being one of the Scottish chiefs! To be eaten up by bloodhounds, and have his sister carried off by Fash-na-Cairn! Blue-Beard was a joke to him; fifteen wives, and only five-and-twenty!--more than three per annum since he came of age! I will put my brother on his guard the moment we arrive. This is truly a barbarous country, and inhabited by n.o.body but murderers and cannibals. Hobbins and Huxtable will be amazed to hear of their partner's fate--and my brother never was partial to dogs!"

CHAPTER III.

The castle of Ben-na-Groich was an old square building, situated in a wild ravine of the North Highlands. It consisted of little more than a high tower, of the rough stone of the country, at one corner of a low ma.s.s of building, in many parts fallen into decay, and presenting an appearance of strength and ma.s.siveness, on which any attempt at beauty would have been thrown away. One side of the square had something more of a habitable look than the remaining portions, from the circ.u.mstance of its chimneys being newly rebuilt and tastefully whitewashed; the roof also was repaired, and the windows fitted with gla.s.s--a luxury which was considered useless by the inhabitants of the remaining three sides--the said inhabitants consisting of two or three cows, half a score of dogs, and one or two old representatives of Fingal, who clung to their ancient habitation with a local attachment that would have done honour to a cat.

On the evening of the 10th of August, the parlour (for it was nothing more, though bearing the n.o.bler designation of the hall) was occupied by a solitary gentleman of somewhat solid dimensions, who cheered his loneliness by an occasional stir of the fire, and a frequent sip at a tumbler of whisky-toddy. From time to time he went to the window and listened. The cataract that rushed down the ravine would have drowned any other external sound, even if such had existed; and with an expression of increased ill humour after every visit to the window, the gentleman renewed his former occupation of sipping the toddy and stirring the fire.

"Some folly or other of sister Alice," at last he grunted, "putting off her time in Edinburgh. They ought to have been here by two o'clock, and here it is eight, and not a sound of their wheels. That cursed rivulet, to be sure, drowns everything else; 'tis worse than our hundred-horse engine. I wish they were here, for being a Highland chieftain is lonely work after all--no coffee-house--no club--no newspaper. Hobbins was right enough in saying, 'I should soon tire;'

but tire or not, I am too proud to go back--no! Young Charles Hobbins shall marry Jane Somers. I will settle them here for three or four months in the summer, and we can all go back to his house for the rest of the year. A real chieftain will be something to look at there, though, in this cursed country, it does not seem to create much admiration. What can be keeping sister Alice?"

The gentleman walked to the window once more, and, opening it a little way, shouted "Angus Mohr! Angus Mohr!" A feeble voice in a short time answered from the dilapidated end of the building.

"Her's comin'--fat ta teil does ta fat havril want?" Uncertain steps not long after sounded along the creaking pa.s.sage; the door was opened, and presented to the impatient glance of the new proprietor the visage of the grumbling Gael. He was an old decrepit man, with bright ferocious eyes gleaming through his elf-locks. If he had succeeded in making a "swap" of his habiliments with any scarecrow south of the Tay, he would have had by far the best of the bargain, for his whole toilet consisted in a coa.r.s.e blue kilt or petticoat (for it had none of the checkers that give a showy appearance to the kilt); his stocking--for he only rejoiced in one--was wrinkled down almost over his shoe; his coat was tattered and torn in every variety of raggedness; and the filth, which was almost thick enough to cover the glaring redness of his fortnight's beard, showed that Angus Mohr took very little interest in the great question about the soap duties. "Fat d'ye want, auld man?" inquired the visitor--"bringin' a poddy a' this way to hear yer havers."

"I merely wish to know, Angus, if there is any lad here you can send to the side of the hill to see if a carriage is coming this way."

"Tere's a laud oot in the byre," replied Angus; "but he's four score year auld, an' has been teaf and blind since they took him to Inferness jail for dirking the packman--teil tak their sowls for pittin an honest man in ony such places--ye can pid him gang, if ye like."

"Why, if he's deaf and blind, Angus, he will be no great help."

"Ten gang yersell; petter that than sitting filling yer pig wame wi'

whisky."

"You shall have a gla.s.s, Angus, when I have tea brought in."

"An' little thanks for it too. It's a small reward for comin' a' this way through the cauld."

"You may go now," said our fat friend, who was now more anxious to get quit of his visitor than he had been for his appearance.

"Teil a pit, teil a pit; no without the gla.s.s ye promised."

"Be off, sir--be more respectful to your superiors. I am chief of this clan."

"He's ta chief!" cried old Angus, with a laugh that shot a chill into the gallant chieftain's heart--"he's ta chief, is he? Hu! hu! hu!"

"For goodness' sake, old man, go back to your own room. You shall have a whole bottle; I'll send it to you directly."

"Mak it a gallon, an' I'll gang. Mak it a gallon--it will do for twa days."

"Well, well, you shall have a gallon--only go," urged the now alarmed proprietor; for Angus, perceiving his advantage, went on increasing in his demands, and the self-elected chief began to perceive that his subjects were not so obedient as he had expected; and vague ideas of dirks and drownings occurred hurriedly to his mind.

Angus, however, seemed for this time satisfied with his prize, and resumed his way to the lower regions, muttering and growling as he went, as if he had been a highly injured individual, and leaving the fat gentleman in a very uncomfortable frame of mind.

"Savages!" he murmured to himself; "by dad, we shall all be murdered to a certainty. However, when all my own servants arrive, we shall turn Angus and the blind old man out of the castle, and have things a little better managed than this. But it certainly is very strange my sister does not come! Our new man, Copus, is a stout fellow, and would keep this old rascal Angus in order."

"Fat, in the teil's name, are ye skirlin' there for?" said the sharp voice of that uncourteous seneschal, as he put his s.h.a.ggy head out of the gla.s.sless orifice that served as a window; "are we a' teaf, think ye?"

"Hallo, old feller!" shouted the voice of Copus in reply, "leave off your hinfernal jabber, and open the door, will ye?"

"Open't yersell, and be t--d till ye," screamed the old man; "her's no servant o' your's, I'm thinking."

"William, isn't there never a bell?" inquired Miss Alice.

"Bell!" re-echoed Mr Copus; "no, nor nothing else that a gentleman is acquainted with; so here I thinks, ma'am, we must stay all night, for that 'ere waterfall wont let n.o.body hear, and the old lunatic, as peeps out of the hole in the wall, don't seem inclined to be civil."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, William, try again--shout as loud as you are able."

"Hillo! hillo! hillo!"

"What's the matter?" exclaimed the voice of the new proprietor himself, at the same moment that his head appeared at the window.

"Here we are, sir," replied Copus, "half-dead with fear and hunger, and yet can't get into our own house for love or money."

"I'll open the door myself," said the chieftain, and putting for the nonce his newly acquired dignity into his pocket, he waddled through the bl.u.s.tering pa.s.sages, and turned the key with his own hand.

"And this, then, is Ben-na-Groich Castle," sighed Miss Alice, as at length she entered the parlour, leaning on the arm of her niece, and looking round with a dolorous expression that would have furnished a study for a picture of despair.

"Even so," replied her brother, with an attempt at a joyous chuckle that died off into a groan.

"Oh, brother Ben--since Ben-na-Groich you insist on being called--oh, brother Ben, what tempted you to buy such a place as this?--in such a country?--among such hideous people?"

"Partly a bad debt that the late owner was on our books--partly a desire to be a regular chief, and astonish the Huxtables; but cheer up, sister, things will be better in a day or two. We shall all put on our tartans--cheer up you too, niece Jane, Charles Hobbins will be here ere long; I've got some clothes ready for him too, and intend to give him a black feather, and make him as good a downy-whistle as you can desire."