第85章

The sheep, which during the ardent heat of the day had sheltered in the breaches and hollows of the gravelly bank, or under the roots of the aged and stunted trees, had now spread themselves upon the face of the hill to enjoy their evening's pasture, and bleated, to each other with that melancholy sound which at once gives life to a landscape, and marks its solitude.

--Taffril and Lovel came on in deep conference, having, for fear of discovery, sent their horses back to the town by the Lieutenant's servant.The opposite party had not yet appeared on the field.But when they came upon the ground, there sat upon the roots of the old thorn a figure as vigorous in his decay as the moss-grown but strong and contorted boughs which served him for a canopy.It was old Ochiltree.``This is embarrassing enough,'' said Lovel:--``How shall we get rid of this old fellow?''

``Here, father Adam,'' cried Taffril, who knew the mendicant of yore--``here's half-a-crown for you.You must go to the Four Horse-shoes yonder--the little inn, you know, and inquire for a servant with blue and yellow livery.If he is not come, you'll wait for him, and tell him we shall be with his master in about an hour's time.At any rate, wait there till we come back,--and--Get off with you--Come, come, weigh anchor.''

``I thank ye for your awmous,'' said Ochiltree, pocketing the piece of money; ``but I beg your pardon, Mr.Taffril--I canna gang your errand e'en now.''

``Why not, man? what can hinder you?''

``I wad speak a word wi' young Mr.Lovel.''

``With me?'' answered Lovel: ``what would you say with me? Come, say on, and be brief.''

The mendicant led him a few paces aside.``Are ye indebted onything to the Laird o' Monkbarns?''

``Indebted!--no, not I--what of that?--what makes you think so?''

``Ye maun ken I was at the shirra's the day; for, God help me, I gang about a' gates like the troubled spirit; and wha suld come whirling there in a post-chaise, but Monkbarns in an unco carfuffle--now, it's no a little thing that will make his honour take a chaise and post-horse twa days rinnin'.''

``Well, well; but what is all this to me?''

``Ou, ye'se hear, ye'se hear.Weel, Monkbarns is closeted wi' the shirra whatever puir folk may be left thereout--ye needna doubt that--the gentlemen are aye unco civil amang themsells.''

``For heaven's sake, my old friend''--``Canna ye bid me gang to the deevil at ance, Mr.Lovel? it wad be mair purpose fa'ard than to speak o' heaven in that impatient gate.''

``But I have private business with Lieutenant Taffril here.''

``Weel, weel, a' in gude time,'' said the beggar--``I can use a little wee bit freedom wi' Mr.Daniel Taffril;--mony's the peery and the tap I worked for him langsyne, for I was a worker in wood as weel as a tinkler.''

``You are either mad, Adam, or have a mind to drive me mad.''

``Nane o' the twa,'' said Edie, suddenly changing his manner from the protracted drawl of the mendicant to a brief and decided tone.``The shirra sent for his clerk, and as the lad is rather light o' the tongue, I fand it was for drawing a warrant to apprehend you--I thought it had been on a _fugie_ warrant for debt; for a' body kens the laird likes naebody to pit his hand in his pouch--But now I may haud my tongue, for I see the M`Intyre lad and Mr.Lesley coming up, and I guess that Monkbarns's purpose was very kind, and that yours is muckle waur than it should be.''

The antagonist now approached, and saluted with the stern civility which befitted the occasion.``What has this old fellow to do here?'' said M`Intyre.

``I am an auld fallow,'' said Edie, ``but I am also an auld soldier o' your father's, for I served wi' him in the 42d.''

``Serve where you please, you have no title to intrude on us,''

said M`Intyre, ``or''--and he lifted his cane _in terrorem,_ though without the idea of touching the old man.

But Ochiltree's courage was roused by the insult.``Haud down your switch, Captain M`Intyre! I am an auld soldier, as I said before, and I'll take muckle frae your father's son; but no a touch o' the wand while my pike-staff will haud thegither.''

``Well, well, I was wrong--I was wrong,'' said M`Intyre;``here's a crown for you--go your ways--what's the matter now?''

The old man drew himself up to the full advantage of his uncommon height, and in despite of his dress, which indeed had more of the pilgrim than the ordinary beggar, looked from height, manner, and emphasis of voice and gesture, rather like a grey palmer or eremite preacher, the ghostly counsellor of the young men who were around him, than the object of their charity.His speech, indeed, was as homely as his habit, but as bold and unceremonious as his erect and dignified demeanour.