Earnscliff muttered something like an answer; but whether in assent of the proposition, or rebuking the application of it, could not easily be discovered; and it seems probable that the speaker himself was willing his meaning should rest in doubt and obscurity. They had now descended the broad loaning, which, winding round the foot of the steep bank, or heugh, brought them in front of the thatched, but comfortable, farmhouse, which was the dwelling of Hobbie Elliot and his family.
The doorway was thronged with joyful faces; but the appearance of a stranger blunted many a gibe which had been prepared on Hobbie’s lack of success in the deer-stalking. There was a little bustle among three handsome young women, each endeavouring to devolve upon another the task of ushering the stranger into the apartment, while probably all were anxious to escape for the purpose of making some little personal arrangements, before presenting themselves to a young gentleman in a dishabille only intended for their brother.
Hobbie, in the meanwhile, bestowing some hearty and general abuse upon them all (for Grace was not of the party), snatched the candle from the hand of one of the rustic coquettes, as she stood playing pretty with it in her hand, and ushered his guest into the family parlour, or rather hall; for the place having been a house of defence in former times, the sitting apartment was a vaulted and paved room, damp and dismal enough compared with the lodgings of the yeomanry of our days, but which, when well lighted up with a large sparkling fire of turf and bog-wood, seemed to Earnscliff a most comfortable exchange for the darkness and bleak blast of the hill. Kindly and repeatedly was he welcomed by the venerable old dame, the mistress of the family, who, dressed in her coif and pinners, her close and decent gown of homespun wool, but with a large gold necklace and earrings, looked, what she really was, the lady as well as the farmer’s wife, while, seated in her chair of wicker, by the corner of the great chimney, she directed the evening occupations of the young women, and of two or three stout serving wenches, who sate plying their distaffs behind the backs of their young mistresses.
As soon as Earnscliff had been duly welcomed, and hasty orders issued for some addition to the evening meal, his granddame and sisters opened their battery upon Hobbie Elliot for his lack of success against the deer.
“Jenny needna have kept up her kitchen-fire for a’ that Hobbie has brought hame,” said one sister.
“Troth no, lass,” said another; “the gathering peat, if it was weel blawn, wad dress a’ our Hobbie’s venison.” [The gathering peat is the piece of turf left to treasure up the secret seeds of fire, without any generous consumption of fuel; in a word, to keep the fire alive.]
“Ay, or the low of the candle, if the wind wad let it hide steady,” said a third; “if I were him, I would bring hame a black craw, rather than come back three times without a buck’s horn to blaw on.”
Hobbie turned from the one to the other, regarding them alternately with a frown on his brow, the augury of which was confuted by the good-humoured laugh on the lower part of his countenance. He then strove to propitiate them, by mentioning the intended present of his companion.
“In my young days,” said the old lady, “a man wad hae been ashamed to come back frae the hill without a buck hanging on each side o’ his horse, like a cadger carrying calves.”
“I wish they had left some for us then, grannie,” retorted Hobbie; “they’ve cleared the country o’ them, thae auld friends o’ yours, I’m thinking.”
“We see other folk can find game, though you cannot, Hobbie,” said the eldest sister, glancing a look at young Earnscliff.
“Weel, weel, woman, hasna every dog his day, begging Earnscliff’s pardon for the auld saying — Mayna I hae his luck, and he mine, another time? — It’s a braw thing for a man to be out a’ day, and frighted — na, I winna say that neither but mistrysted wi’ bogles in the hame-coming, an’ then to hae to flyte wi’ a wheen women that hae been doing naething a’ the live-lang day, but whirling a bit stick, wi’ a thread trailing at it, or boring at a clout.”
“Frighted wi’ bogles!” exclaimed the females, one and all, — for great was the regard then paid, and perhaps still paid, in these glens, to all such fantasies.
“I did not say frighted, now — I only said mis-set wi’ the thing — And there was but ae bogle, neither — Earnscliff, ye saw it; as weel as I did?”
And he proceeded, without very much exaggeration, to detail, in his own way, the meeting they had with the mysterious being at Mucklestane-Moor, concluding, he could not conjecture what on earth it could be, unless it was either the Enemy himsell, or some of the auld Peghts that held the country lang syne.
“Auld Peght!” exclaimed the granddame; “na, na — bless thee frae scathe, my bairn, it’s been nae Peght that — it’s been the Brown Man of the Moors! O weary fa’ thae evil days! — what can evil beings be coming for to distract a poor country, now it’s peacefully settled, and living in love and law — O weary on him! he ne’er brought gude to these lands or the indwellers. My father aften tauld me he was seen in the year o’ the bloody fight at Marston-Moor, and then again in Montrose’s troubles, and again before the rout o’ Dunbar, and, in my ain time, he was seen about the time o’ Bothwell-Brigg, and they said the second-sighted Laird of Benarbuck had a communing wi’ him some time afore Argyle’s landing, but that I cannot speak to sae preceesely — it was far in the west. — O, bairns, he’s never permitted but in an ill time, sae mind ilka ane o’ ye to draw to Him that can help in the day of trouble.”
Earnscliff now interposed, and expressed his firm conviction that the person they had seen was some poor maniac, and had no commission from the invisible world to announce either war or evil. But his opinion found a very cold audience, and all joined to deprecate his purpose of returning to the spot the next day.
“O, my bonny bairn,” said the old dame (for, in the kindness of her heart, she extended her parental style to all in whom she was interested) — -”You should beware mair than other folk — there’s been a heavy breach made in your house wi’ your father’s bloodshed, and wi’ law-pleas, and losses sinsyne; — and you are the flower of the flock, and the lad that will build up the auld bigging again (if it be His will) to be an honour to the country, and a safeguard to those that dwell in it — you, before others, are called upon to put yoursell in no rash adventures — for yours was aye ower venturesome a race, and muckle harm they have got by it.”
“But I am sure, my good friend, you would not have me be afraid of going to an open moor in broad daylight?”
“I dinna ken,” said the good old dame; “I wad never bid son or friend o’ mine haud their hand back in a gude cause, whether it were a friend’s or their ain — that should be by nae bidding of mine, or of ony body that’s come of a gentle kindred — But it winna gang out of a grey head like mine, that to gang to seek for evil that’s no fashing wi’ you, is clean against law and Scripture.”
Earnscliff resigned an argument which he saw no prospect of maintaining with good effect, and the entrance of supper broke off the conversation. Miss Grace had by this time made her appearance, and Hobbie, not without a conscious glance at Earnscliff, placed himself by her side. Mirth and lively conversation, in which the old lady of the house took the good-humoured share which so well becomes old age, restored to the cheeks of the damsels the roses which their brother’s tale of the apparition had chased away, and they danced and sung for an hour after supper as if there were no such things as goblins in the world.
Chapter IV
I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind;
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
That I might love thee something.