Chapter 23

              Nay, if she love me not, I care not for her:
              Shall I look pale because the maiden blooms
              Or sigh because she smiles, and smiles on others
              Not I, by Heaven!--I hold my peace too dear,
                    To let it, like the plume upon her cap,
             Shake at each nod that her caprice shall dictate.
                                          Old Play.




"Hector," said his uncle to Captain M'Intyre, in the course of their walk
homeward, "I am sometimes inclined to suspect that, in one respect, you
are a fool."
"If you only think me so in _one_ respect, sir, I am sure you do me more
grace than I expected or deserve."
"I mean in one particular _par excellence,_" answered the Antiquary. "I
have sometimes thought that you have cast your eyes upon Miss Wardour."
"Well, sir," said M'Intyre, with much composure.
"Well, sir," echoed his uncle--"Deuce take the fellow! he answers me as
if it were the most reasonable thing in the world, that he, a captain in
the array, and nothing at all besides, should marry the daughter of a
baronet."
"I presume to think, sir," said the young Highlander, "there would be no
degradation on Miss Wardour's part in point of family."
"O, Heaven forbid we should come on that topic!--No, no, equal both--both
on the table-land of gentility, and qualified to look down on every
_roturier_ in Scotland."
"And in point of fortune we are pretty even, since neither of us have got
any," continued Hector. "There may be an error, but I cannot plead guilty
to presumption."

"But here lies the error, then, if you call it so," replied his uncle:
"she won't have you, Hector."
"Indeed, sir?"
"It is very sure, Hector; and to make it double sure, I must inform you
that she likes another man. She misunderstood some words I once said to
her, and I have since been able to guess at the interpretation she put on
them. At the time I was unable to account for her hesitation and
blushing; but, my poor Hector, I now understand them as a death-signal to
your hopes and pretensions. So I advise you to beat your retreat and draw
off your forces as well as you can, for the fort is too well garrisoned
for you to storm it."
"I have no occasion to beat any retreat, uncle," said Hector, holding
himself very upright, and marching with a sort of dogged and offended
solemnity; "no man needs to retreat that has never advanced. There are
women in Scotland besides Miss Wardour, of as good family"--
"And better taste," said his uncle; "doubtless there are, Hector; and
though I cannot say but that she is one of the most accomplished as well
as sensible girls I have seen, yet I doubt, much of her merit would be
cast away on you. A showy figure, now, with two cross feathers above her
noddle--one green, one blue; who would wear a riding-habit of the
regimental complexion, drive a gig one day, and the next review the
regiment on the grey trotting pony which dragged that vehicle, _hoc erat
in votis;_--these are the qualities that would subdue you, especially if
she had a taste for natural history, and loved a specimen of a _phoca._"
"It's a little hard, sir," said Hector, "I must have that cursed seal
thrown into my face on all occasions--but I care little about it--and I
shall not break my heart for Miss Wardour. She is free to choose for
herself, and I wish her all happiness."
"Magnanimously resolved, thou prop of Troy! Why, Hector, I was afraid of
a scene. Your sister told me you were desperately in love with Miss
Wardour."
"Sir," answered the young man, "you would not have me desperately in love
with a woman that does not care about me?"
"Well, nephew," said the Antiquary, more seriously, "there is doubtless
much sense in what you say; yet I would have given a great deal, some
twenty or twenty-five years since, to have been able to think as you do."
"Anybody, I suppose, may think as they please on such subjects," said
Hector.
"Not according to the old school," said Oldbuck; "but, as I said before,
the practice of the modern seems in this case the most prudential,
though, I think, scarcely the most interesting. But tell me your ideas
now on this prevailing subject of an invasion. The cry is still, They
come."
Hector, swallowing his mortification, which he was peculiarly anxious to
conceal from his uncle's satirical observation, readily entered into a
conversation which was to turn the Antiquary's thoughts from Miss Wardour
and the seal. When they reached Monkbarns, the communicating to the
ladies the events which had taken place at the castle, with the
counter-information of how long dinner had waited before the womankind
had ventured to eat it in the Antiquary's absence, averted these delicate
topics of discussion.
The next morning the Antiquary arose early, and, as Caxon had not yet
made his appearance, he began mentally to feel the absence of the petty
news and small talk of which the ex-peruquier was a faithful reporter,
and which habit had made as necessary to the Antiquary as his occasional
pinch of snuff, although he held, or affected to hold, both to be of the
same intrinsic value. The feeling of vacuity peculiar to such a
deprivation, was alleviated by the appearance of old Ochiltree,
sauntering beside the clipped yew and holly hedges, with the air of a
person quite at home. Indeed, so familiar had he been of late, that even
Juno did not bark at him, but contented herself with watching him with a
close and vigilant eye. Our Antiquary stepped out in his night-gown, and
instantly received and returned his greeting.
"They are coming now, in good earnest, Monkbarns. I just cam frae
Fairport to bring ye the news, and then I'll step away back again. The
Search has just come into the bay, and they say she's been chased by a
French fleet.
"The Search?" said Oldbuck, reflecting a moment. "Oho!"
"Ay, ay, Captain Taffril's gun-brig, the Search."
"What? any relation to _Search, No. II.?_" said Oldbuck, catching at the
light which the name of the vessel seemed to throw on the mysterious
chest of treasure.
The mendicant, like a man detected in a frolic, put his bonnet before his
face, yet could not help laughing heartily.--"The deil's in you,
Monkbarns, for garring odds and evens meet. Wha thought ye wad hae laid
that and that thegither? Od, I am clean catch'd now."
"I see it all," said Oldbuck, "as plain as the legend on a medal of high
preservation--the box in which the' bullion was found belonged to the
gun-brig, and the treasure to my phoenix?"--(Edie nodded assent),--"and
was buried there that Sir Arthur might receive relief in his
difficulties?"
"By me," said Edie, "and twa o' the brig's men--but they didna ken its
contents, and thought it some bit smuggling concern o' the Captain's. I
watched day and night till I saw it in the right hand; and then, when
that German deevil was glowering at the lid o' the kist (they liked
mutton weel that licked where the yowe lay), I think some Scottish deevil
put it into my head to play him yon ither cantrip. Now, ye see, if I had
said mair or less to Bailie Littlejohn, I behoved till hae come out wi'
a' this story; and vexed would Mr. Lovel hae been to have it brought to
light--sae I thought I would stand to onything rather than that."
"I must say he has chosen his confidant well," said Oldbuck, "though
somewhat strangely."
"I'll say this for mysell, Monkbarns," answered the mendicant, "that I am
the fittest man in the haill country to trust wi' siller, for I neither
want it, nor wish for it, nor could use it if I had it. But the lad hadna
muckle choice in the matter, for he thought he was leaving the country
for ever (I trust he's mistaen in that though); and the night was set in
when we learned, by a strange chance, Sir Arthur's sair distress, and
Lovel was obliged to be on board as the day dawned. But five nights
afterwards the brig stood into the bay, and I met the boat by
appointment, and we buried the treasure where ye fand it."
"This was a very romantic, foolish exploit," said Oldbuck: "why not trust
me, or any other friend?"
"The blood o' your sister's son," replied Edie, "was on his hands, and
him maybe dead outright--what time had he to take counsel?--or how could
he ask it of you, by onybody?"
"You are right. But what if Dousterswivel had come before you?"
"There was little fear o' his coming there without Sir Arthur: he had
gotten a sair gliff the night afore, and never intended to look near the
place again, unless he had been brought there sting and ling. He ken'd
weel the first pose was o' his ain hiding, and how could he expect a
second? He just havered on about it to make the mair o' Sir Arthur."
"Then how," said Oldbuck, "should Sir Arthur have come there unless the
German had brought him?"
"Umph!" answered Edie drily. "I had a story about Misticot wad hae
brought him forty miles, or you either. Besides, it was to be thought he
would be for visiting the place he fand the first siller in--he ken'd na
the secret o' that job. In short, the siller being in this shape, Sir
Arthur in utter difficulties, and Lovel determined he should never ken
the hand that helped him,--for that was what he insisted maist upon,--we
couldna think o' a better way to fling the gear in his gate, though we
simmered it and wintered it e'er sae lang. And if by ony queer mischance
Doustercivil had got his claws on't, I was instantly to hae informed you
or the Sheriff o' the haill story."
"Well, notwithstanding all these wise precautions, I think your
contrivance succeeded better than such a clumsy one deserved, Edie. But
how the deuce came Lovel by such a mass of silver ingots?"
"That's just what I canna tell ye--But they were put on board wi' his
things at Fairport, it's like, and we stowed them into ane o' the
ammunition-boxes o' the brig, baith for concealment and convenience of
carriage."
"Lord!" said Oldbuck, his recollection recurring to the earlier part of
his acquaintance with Lovel; "and this young fellow, who was putting
hundreds on so strange a hazard, I must be recommending a subscription to
him, and paying his bill at the Ferry! I never will pay any person's bill
again, that's certain.--And you kept up a constant correspondence with
Lovel, I suppose?"
"I just gat ae bit scrape o' a pen frae him, to say there wad, as
yesterday fell, be a packet at Tannonburgh, wi' letters o' great
consequence to the Knockwinnock folk; for they jaloused the opening of
our letters at Fairport--And that's a's true; I hear Mrs. Mailsetter is
to lose her office for looking after other folk's business and neglecting
her ain."
"And what do you expect now, Edie, for being the adviser, and messenger,
and guard, and confidential person in all these matters?"
"Deil haet do I expect--excepting that a' the gentles will come to the
gaberlunzie's burial; and maybe ye'll carry the head yoursell, as ye did
puir Steenie Mucklebackit's.--What trouble was't to me? I was ganging
about at ony rate--Oh, but I was blythe when I got out of Prison, though;
for I thought, what if that weary letter should come when I am closed up
here like an oyster, and a' should gang wrang for want o't? and whiles I
thought I maun mak a clean breast and tell you a' about it; but then I
couldna weel do that without contravening Mr. Lovel's positive orders;
and I reckon he had to see somebody at Edinburgh afore he could do what
he wussed to do for Sir Arthur and his family."
"Well, and to your public news, Edie--So they are still coming are they?"
"Troth they say sae, sir; and there's come down strict orders for the
forces and volunteers to be alert; and there's a clever young officer to
come here forthwith, to look at our means o' defence--I saw the Bailies
lass cleaning his belts and white breeks--I gae her a hand, for ye maun
think she wasna ower clever at it, and sae I gat a' the news for my
pains."
"And what think you, as an old soldier?"
"Troth I kenna--an they come so mony as they speak o', they'll be odds
against us. But there's mony yauld chields amang thae volunteers; and I
mauna say muckle about them that's no weel and no very able, because I am
something that gate mysell--But we'se do our best."
"What! so your martial spirit is rising again, Edie?
                Even in our ashes glow their wonted fires!
I would not have thought you, Edie, had so much to fight for?"
"_Me_ no muckle to fight for, sir?--isna there the country to fight for,
and the burnsides that I gang daundering beside, and the hearths o'the
gudewives that gie me my bit bread, and the bits o' weans that come
toddling to play wi' me when I come about a landward town?--Deil!" he
continued, grasping his pike-staff with great emphasis, "an I had as gude
pith as I hae gude-will, and a gude cause, I should gie some o' them a
day's kemping."
"Bravo, bravo, Edie! The country's in little ultimate danger, when the
beggar's as ready to fight for his dish as the laird for his land."
Their further conversation reverted to the particulars of the night
passed by the mendicant and Lovel in the ruins of St. Ruth; by the
details of which the Antiquary was highly amused.
"I would have given a guinea," he said, "to have seen the scoundrelly
German under the agonies of those terrors, which it is part of his own
quackery to inspire into others; and trembling alternately for the fury
of his patron, and the apparition of some hobgoblin."
"Troth," said the beggar, "there was time for him to be cowed; for ye wad
hae thought the very spirit of Hell-in-Harness had taken possession o'
the body o' Sir Arthur. But what will come o' the land-louper?"
"I have had a letter this morning, from which I understand he has
acquitted you of the charge he brought against you, and offers to make
such discoveries as will render the settlement of Sir Arthur's affairs a
more easy task than we apprehended--So writes the Sheriff; and adds, that
he has given some private information of importance to Government, in
consideration of which, I understand he will be sent back to play the
knave in his own country."
"And a' the bonny engines, and wheels, and the coves, and sheughs, doun
at Glenwithershins yonder, what's to come o' them?" said Edie.
"I hope the men, before they are dispersed, will make a bonfire of their
gimcracks, as an army destroy their artillery when forced to raise a
siege. And as for the holes, Edie, I abandon them as rat-traps, for the
benefit of the next wise men who may choose to drop the substance to
snatch at a shadow."
"Hech, sirs! guide us a'! to burn the engines? that's a great waste--Had
ye na better try to get back part o' your hundred pounds wi' the sale o'
the materials?" he continued, with a tone of affected condolence.
"Not a farthing," said the Antiquary, peevishly, taking a turn from him,
and making a step or two away. Then returning, half-smiling at his own
pettishness, he said, "Get thee into the house, Edie, and remember my
counsel, never speak to me about a mine, nor to my nephew Hector about a
_phoca,_ that is a sealgh, as you call it."
"I maun be ganging my ways back to Fairport," said the wanderer; "I want
to see what they're saying there about the invasion;--but I'll mind what
your honour says, no to speak to you about a sealgh, or to the Captain
about the hundred pounds that you gied to Douster"--
"Confound thee!--I desired thee not to mention that to me."
"Dear me!" said Edie, with affected surprise; "weel, I thought there was
naething but what your honour could hae studden in the way o' agreeable
conversation, unless it was about the Praetorian yonder, or the bodle
that the packman sauld to ye for an auld coin."
"Pshaw! pshaw!" said the Antiquary, turning from him hastily, and
retreating into the house.
The mendicant looked after him a moment, and with a chuckling laugh, such
as that with which a magpie or parrot applauds a successful exploit of
mischief, he resumed once more the road to Fairport. His habits had given
him a sort of restlessness, much increased by the pleasure he took in
gathering news; and in a short time he had regained the town which he
left in the morning, for no reason that he knew himself, unless just to
"hae a bit crack wi' Monkbarns."