Book: Marriage

S >> Susan Edmonstone Ferrier >> Marriage




"Here's no coffee," said Douglas, surveying the tea-table; "but I will
ring for some," as he pulled the bell.

Old Donald answered the summons.

"Where's the coffee?" demanded Miss Nicky.

"The coffee!" repeated the Highlander; "troth, Miss Nicky, an' it's been
clean forgot."

"Well, but you can get it yet?" said Douglas.

"'Deed, Maister Harry, the night's owre far gane for't noo; for the
fire's a' ta'en up, ye see," reckoning with his fingers, as he
proceeded; "there's parritch makin' for oor supper; and there's patatees
boiling for the beasts; and--"

"I'll see about it myself," said Miss Nicky, leaving the room, with old
Donald at her back, muttering all the way.

The old Laird, all this while, had been enjoying his evening nap; but,
that now ended, and the tea equipage being dismissed, starting up, he
asked what they were about, that the dancing was not begun.

"Come, my Leddy, we'll set the example," snapping his fingers, and
singing in a hoarse voice,

"The mouse is a merry beastie,
And the moudiwort wants the een;
But folk sail ne'er get wit,
Sae merry as we twa ha'e been.'

"But whar's the girlies?" cried he. "Ho! Belle, Becky, Betty, Baby,
Beeny--to your posts!"

The young ladies, eager for the delights of music and dancing, now
entered, followed by Coil, the piper, dressed in the native garb, with
cheeks seemingly ready blown for the occasion. After a little strutting
and puffing, the pipes were fairly set a going in Coil's most spirited
manner. But vain would be the attempt to describe Lady Juliana's horror
and amazement at the hideous sounds that for the first time assailed her
ear. Tearing herself from the grasp of the old gentleman, who was just
setting off in the reel, she flew shrieking to her husband, and threw
herself trembling into his arms, while he called loudly to the self
delighted Coil to stop.

"What's the matter? what's the matter?" cried the whole family,
gathering round.

"Matter!" repeated Douglas furiously; "you have frightened Lady Juliana
to death with your infernal music. What did you mean," turning fiercely
to the astonished piper, "by blowing that confounded bladder?"

Poor Coil gaped with astonishment; for never before had his performance
on the bagpipe been heard but with admiration and applause.

"A bonny bargain, indeed, that canna stand the pipes," said the old
gentleman, as he went puffing up and down the room. "She's no the wife
for a Heelandman. Confoonded blather, indeed! By my faith, ye're no
blate!"

"I declare it's the most distressing thing I ever met with," sighed Miss
Grizzy. "I wonder whether it could be the sight or the sound of the
bagpipe that frightened our dear niece. I wish to goodness Lady
Maclaughlan was here!"

"It's impossible the bagpipe could frighten anybody," said Miss Jacky,
in a high key; "nobody with common sense could be frightened at a
bagpipe."

Mrs. Douglas here mildly interposed, and soothed down the offended pride
of the Highlanders by attributing Lady Juliana's agitation entirely to
_surprise._ The word operated like a charm; all were ready to admit that
it was a surprising thing when heard for the first time. Miss Jacky
remarked that we are all liable to be surprised; and the still more
sapient Grizzy said that, indeed, it was most surprising the effect that
surprise had upon some people. For her own part, she could not deny but
that she was very often frightened when she was surprised.

Douglas, meanwhile, was employed in soothing the terrors, real or
affected, of his delicate bride, who declared herself so exhausted with
the fatigue she had undergone, and the sufferings she had endured, that
she must retire for the night. Henry, eager to escape from the questions
and remarks of his family, gladly availed himself of the same excuse;
and, to the infinite mortification of both aunts and nieces, the ball
was broken up.






CHAPTER VI

"What choice to choose for delicacy best."

Milton

OF what nature were the remarks passed in the parlour upon the new
married couple has not reached the writer of these memoirs with as much
exactness as the foregoing circumstances; but they may in part be
imagined from the sketch already given of the characters which formed
the Glenfern party. The conciliatory indulgence of Mrs. Douglas, when
aided by the good-natured Miss Grizzy, doubtless had a favourable effect
on the irritated pride but short-lived acrimony of the old gentleman.
Certain it is that, before the evening concluded, they appeared all
restored to harmony, and retired to their respective chambers in hopes
of beholding a more propitious morrow.

Who has not perused sonnets, odes, and speeches in praise of that balmy
blessing sleep; from the divine effusions of Shakespeare down to the
drowsy notes of newspaper poets?

Yet cannot too much be said in its commendation. Sweet is its influence
on the careworn eyes to tears accustomed. In its arms the statesman
forgets his harassed thoughts; the weary and the poor are blessed with
its charms; and conscience--even conscience--is sometimes soothed into
silence, while the sufferer sleeps. But nowhere, perhaps, is its
influence more happily felt than in the heart oppressed by the harassing
accumulation of petty ills; like a troop of locusts, making up by their
number and their stings what they want in magnitude.

Mortified pride in discovering the fallacy of our own judgment; to be
ashamed of what we love, yet still to love, are feelings most
unpleasant; and though they assume not the dignity of deep distress, yet
philosophy has scarce any power to soothe their worrying, incessant
annoyance. Douglas was glad to forget himself in sleep. He had thought a
vast deal that day, and of unpleasant subjects, more than the whole of
his foregoing life would have produced. If he did not curse the fair
object of his imprudence, he at least cursed his own folly and himself;
and these were his last waking thoughts.

But Douglas could not repose as long as the seven sleepers, and, in
consequence of having retired sooner to bed than he was accustomed to
do, he waked at an early hour in the morning.

The wonderful activity which people sometimes feel when they have little
to do with their bodies, and less with their minds, caused him to rise
hastily and dress, hoping to pick up a new set of ideas by virtue of his
locomotive powers.

On descending to the dining-parlour he found his father seated at the
window, carefully perusing a pamphlet written to illustrate the
principle, _Let nothing be lost,_ and containing many sage and erudite
directions for the composition and dimensions of that ornament to a
gentleman's farmyard, and a cottager's front door, ycleped, in the
language of the country, a _midden_--with the signification of which we
would not, for the world, shock the more refined feelings of our
southern readers.

Many were the inquiries about dear Lady Juliana; hoped she had rested
well; hoped the found the bed comfortable, etc. etc. These inquiries
were interrupted by the Laird, who requested is son to take a turn with
him while breakfast was getting ready, that they might talk over past
events and new plans; that he might see the new planting on the hill; the
draining of the great moss; with other agricultural concerns which we
shall omit, not having the same power of commanding attention for our
readers as the Laird had from his hearers.

After repeated summonses and many inquiries from the impatient party
already assembled the breakfast table, Lady Juliana made her appearance,
accompanied by her favourites, whom no persuasions of her husband could
prevail upon her to leave behind.

As she entered the room her olfactory nerves were smote with gales,
not of "Araby the blest," but of old cheese and herrings, with which the
hospitable board was amply provided.

The ladies having severally exchanged the salutations of the morning,
Miss Nicky commenced the operation of pouring out tea, while the Laird
laid a large piece of herring on her Ladyship's plate.

"Good heavens! what am I to do with this?" exclaimed she. "Do take it
away, or I shall faint!"

"Brother', brother!" cried Miss Grizzy in a tone of alarm, "I beg you
won't place any unpleasant object before the eyes of our dear niece. I
declare! Pray, was it the sight or the smell of the beast [1] that
shocked you so much, my dear Lady Juliana? I'm sure I wish to goodness
Lady Maclaughlan was come!"

[1] In Scotland everything that flies and swims ranks in the bestial tribe.

Mr. Douglas, or the Major, as he was styled, immediately rose and pulled
the bell.

"Desire my gig to be got ready directly!" said he.

The aunts drew up stiffly, and looked at each other without speaking;
but the old gentleman expressed his surprise that his son should think
of leaving them so soon.

"May we inquire the reason of this sudden resolution?" at length said
Miss Jacky in a tone of stifled indignation.

"Certainly, if you are disposed to hear it; it is because I find that
there is company expected."

The three ladies turned up their hands and eyes in speechless horror.

"Is it that virtuous woman Lady Maclaughlan you would shun, nephew?"
demanded Miss Jacky.

"It is that insufferable woman I would shun," replied her nephew, with a
heightened colour and a violence very unusual with him.

The good Miss Grizzy drew out her pocket-handkerchief, while Mrs.
Douglas vainly endeavoured to silence her husband, and avert the rising
storm.

"Dear Douglas!" whispered his wife in a tone of reproach.

"Oh, pray let him go on," said Miss Jacky, almost choking under the
effort she made to appear calm. "Let him go on. Lady Maclaughlan's
character, luckily, is far above the reach of calumny; nothing that Mr.
Archibald Douglas can say will have power to change our opinions, or, I
hope, to prejudice his brother and Lady Juliana against this most
exemplary, virtuous woman--a woman of family--of fortune--of talents of
accomplishments; a woman of unblemished reputation--of the strictest
morals, sweetest temper, charming heart, delightful spirits, so
charitable--every year gives fifty flannel petticoats to the old people
of the parish---"

"Then such a wife as she is!" sobbed out Miss Grizzy. "She has
invented I don't know how many different medicines for Sir Sampson's
complaint, and makes a point of his taking some of them every day; but
for her I'm sure he would have been in his grave long ago."

"She's doing all she can to send him there, as she has done many a poor
wretch already, with her infernal compositions."

Here Miss Grizzy sank back in her chair, overcome with horror; and Miss
Nicky let fall the teapot, the scalding contents of which discharged
themselves upon the unfortunate Psyche, whose yells, mingling with the
screams of its fair mistress, for a while drowned even Miss Jacky's
oratory.

"Oh, what shall I do?" cried Lady Juliana, as she bent over her
favourite. "Do send for a surgeon; pray, Henry, fly! Do fetch one
directly, or she will die; and it would quite kill me to lose my
darling. Do run, dearest Harry!"

"My dear Julia, how can you be so absurd? There's no surgeon within
twenty miles of this."

"No surgeon within twenty miles!" exclaimed she, starting up. "How
could you bring me to such a place? Good God! those dear creatures may
die--I may die myself--before I can get any assistance!"

"Don't be alarmed, my dearest niece," said the good Miss Grizzy; "we are
all doctors here. I understand something of physic myself; and our
friend Lady Maclaughlan, who, I daresay, will be here presently, is
perfect mistress of every disease of the human frame."

"Clap a cauld potatae to the brute's tae," cried the old
Laird gruffly.

"I've a box of her scald ointment that will cure it in a minute."

"If it don't cure, it will kill," said Mr. Douglas, with a smile.

"Brother," said Miss Jacky, rising with dignity from her chair, and
waving her hand as she spoke-"brother, I appeal to you to protect the
character of this most amiable, respectable matron from the insults and
calumny your son thinks proper to load it with. Sir Sampson Maclaughlan
is your friend, and it therefore becomes your duty to defend his wife."

"Troth, but I'll hae aneugh to do if I am to stand up for a' my friends'
wives," said the old gentleman. "But, however, Archie, you are to blame:
Leddy Maclaughlan is a very decent woman--at least, as far as I
ken--though she is a little free in the gab; and out of respect to my
auld friend Sir Sampson, it is my desire that you should remain here to
receive him, and that you trait baith him and his Lady discreetly."

This was said in too serious a tone to be disputed, and his son was
obliged to submit.

The ointment meanwhile having been applied to Psyche's paw, peace
was restored, and breakfast, recommenced.

"I declare our dear niece has not tasted a morsel," observed Miss Nicky.

"Bless me, here's charming barley meal scones," cried one, thrusting a
plateful of them before her. "Here's tempting pease bannocks,"
interposed another, "and oat cakes. I'm sure your Ladyship never saw
such cakes."

"I can't eat any of those things," said their delicate niece, with an
air of disgust. "I should like some muffin and chocolate."

"You forget you are not in London, my love," said her husband
reproachfully.

"No indeed, I do not forget it. Well then, give me some toast," with an
air of languid condescension.

"Unfortunately, we happen be quite out of loaf bread at present," said
Miss Nicky; "but we've sent to Drymsine for some. They bake excellent
bread at Drymsine."

"Is there nothing within the bounds of possibility you would fancy,
Julia?" asked Douglas. "Do think, love."

"I think I should like some grouse, or a beefsteak, if it was very
nicely done," returned her Ladyship in a languishing tone.

"Beef-steak!" repeated Miss Grizzy.

"Beef-steak!" responded Miss Jacky.

"Beef-steak!" reverberated Miss Nicky.

After much deliberation and consultation amongst the three spinsters, it
was at length unanimously carried that the Lady's whim should be
indulged.

"Only think, sisters," observed Miss Grizzy in an undertone, "what
reflections we should have to make upon ourselves if the child was to
resemble a moorfowl!"

"Or have a face like a raw beef-steak!" said Miss Nicky.

These arguments were unanswerable; and a smoking steak and plump
moor-fowl were quickly produced, of which Lady Juliana partook in
company with her four-footed favourites.






CHAPTER VII

"When winter soaks, the fields, and female feet--
Too weak to struggle with tenacious clay,
Or ford the rivulets--are best at home."

_The Task_

THE meal being at length concluded, Glenfern desired Henry to attend him
on a walk, as he wished to have a little more private conversation with
him. Lady Juliana was beginning a remonstrance against the cruelty of
taking Harry away from her, when her husband whispering her that he
hoped to make something of the old gentleman, and that he should soon be
back, she suffered him to depart in silence.

Old Donald having at length succeeded in clearing the table of its
heterogeneous banquet, it was quickly covered with the young ladies'
work.

Miss Nicky withdrew to her household affairs. Miss Jacky sat with one
eye upon Lady Juliana, the other upon her five nieces. Miss Grizzy
seated herself by her Ladyship, holding a spread letter of Lady
Maclaughlan's before her as a screen.

While the young ladies busily plied their needles, the elder ones left
no means untried to entertain their listless niece, whose only replies
were exclamations of weariness, or expressions of affection bestowed
upon her favourites.

At length even Miss Jacky's sense and Miss Grizzy's good nature were _at
fault;_ when a ray of sunshine darting into the room suggested the idea
of a walk. The proposal was made, and assented to by her Ladyship, in
the twofold hope of meeting her husband and pleasing her dogs, whose
whining and scratching had for some time testified their desire of a
change. The ladies therefore separated to prepare for their _sortie,_
after many recommendations from the aunts to be sure to _hap_ [1] well;
but, as if distrusting her powers in that way, they speedily equipped
themselves, and repaired to her chamber, arrayed _cap a' pie_ in the
walking costume of Glenfern Castle. And, indeed, it must be owned their
style of dress was infinitely more judicious than that of their
fashionable niece; and it was not surprising that they, in their shrunk
duffle greatcoats, vast poke-bonnets, red worsted neckcloths, and
pattens, should gaze with horror at her lace cap, lilac satin pelisse,
and silk shoes. Ruin to the whole race of Glenfern, present and future,
seemed inevitable from such a display of extravagance and imprudence.
Having surmounted the first shock, Miss Jacky made a violent effort to
subdue her rising wrath; and, with a sort of convulsive smile, addressed
Lady Juliana: "Your Ladyship, I perceive, is not of the opinion of our
inimitable bard, who, in his charming poem, 'The Seasons,' says' Beauty
needs not the foreign aid of ornament; but is, when unadorned, adorned
the most.' That is a truth that ought to be impressed on every young
woman's mind."

[1] Wrap.

Lady Juliana only stared. She was as little accustomed to be advised as
she was to hear Thomson's "Seasons" quoted.

"I declare that's all quite true," said the more temporising Grizzy;
"and certainly our girls are not in the least taken up about their
dress, poor things! which is a great comfort. At the same time, I'm sure
it's no wonder your Ladyship should be taken up about yours, for
certainly that pelisse is most beautiful. Nobody can deny that; and I
daresay it is the very newest fashion. At the same time, I'm just afraid
that it's rather too delicate, and that it might perhaps get a little
dirty on our roads; for although, in general, our roads are quite
remarkable for being always dry, which is a great comfort in the
country, yet you know the very best roads of course must be wet
sometimes. And there's a very bad step just at the door almost, which
Glenfern has been always speaking about getting mended. But, to be sure,
he has so many things to think about that it's no wonder he forgets
sometimes; but I daresay he will get it done very soon now."

The prospect of the road being mended produced no better effect than the
quotation from Thomson's "Seasons." It was now Miss Nicky's turn.

"I'm afraid your Ladyship will frighten our stirks and stots with your
finery. I assure you they are not accustomed to see such fine figures;
and"--putting her hand out at the window--"I think it's spitting
already." [1]

[1] A common expression in Scotland to signify slight rain.

All three now joined in the chorus, beseeching Lady Juliana to put on
something warmer and more wiselike.

"I positively have nothing," cried she, wearied with their
importunities, "and I shan't get any winter things now till I return to
town. My _roquelaire_ does very well for the carriage."

The acknowledgment at the beginning of this speech was enough. All three
instantly disappeared like the genii of Aladin's lamp, and, like that
same person, presently returned, loaded with what, in their eyes, were
precious as the gold of Arabia. One displayed a hard worsted shawl, with
a flower-pot at each corner; another held up a tartan cloak, with a
hood; and a third thrust forward a dark cloth Joseph, lined with
flannel; while one and all showered down a variety of old bonnets, fur
tippets, hair soles, clogs, pattens, and endless _et ceteras_. Lady
Juliana shrank with disgust from these "delightful haps," and resisted
all attempts to have them forced upon her, declaring, in a manner which
showed her determined to have her own way, that she would either go out
as she was or not go out at all. The aunts were therefore obliged to
submit, and the party proceeded to what was termed the high road, though
a stranger would have sought in vain for its pretensions to that
title. Far as the eye could reach--and that was far enough--not a single
vehicle could be descried on it, though its deep ruts showed that it was
well frequented by carts. The scenery might have had charms for Ossian,
but it had none for Lady Juliana, who would rather have been entangled
in a string of Bond Street equipages than traversing "the lonely heath,
with the stream murmuring hoarsely, the old trees groaning in the wind,
the troubled lake," and the still more troubled sisters. As may be
supposed, she very soon grew weary of the walk. The bleak wind pierced
her to the soul; her silk slippers and lace flounces became
undistinguishable masses of mud; her dogs chased the sheep, and were, in
their turn, pursued by the "nowts," as the ladies termed the steers. One
sister expatiated on the great blessing of having a peat moss at their
door; another was at pains to point out the purposed site of a set of
new offices; and the third lamented that her Ladyship had not on thicker
shoes, that she might have gone and seen the garden. More than ever
disgusted and wretched, the hapless Lady Juliana returned to the house
to fret away the time till her husband's return.






CHAPTER VIII.

"On se rend insupportable dans la societe par des
defauts legers, mais qui se font sentir a tout
moment."--VOLTAIRE.

THE family of Glenfern have already said so much for themselves that it
seems as if little remained to be told by their biographer. Mrs. Douglas
was the only member of the community who was at all conscious of the
unfortunate association of characters and habits that had just taken
place. She was a stranger to Lady Juliana; but she was interested by her
youth, beauty, and elegance, and felt for the sacrifice she had made--a
sacrifice so much greater than it was possible she ever could have
conceived or anticipated. She could in some degree enter into the nature
of her feelings towards the old ladies; for she too had felt how
disagreeable people might contrive to render themselves without being
guilty of any particular fault, and how much more difficult it is to
bear with the weaknesses than the vices of our neighbours. Had these
ladies' failings been greater in a moral point of view, it might not
have been so arduous a task to put up with them. But to love such a set
of little, trifling, tormenting foibles, all dignified with the name of
virtues, required, from her elegant mind, an exertion of its highest
principles--a continual remembrance of that difficult Christian precept,
"to bear with one another." A person of less sense than Mrs. Douglas
would have endeavoured to open the eyes of their understandings on what
appeared to be the folly and narrow mindedness of their ways; but she
refrained from the attempt, not from want of benevolent exertion, but
from an innate conviction that their foibles all originated in what was
now incurable, viz. the natural weakness of their minds, together with
their ignorance of the world and the illiberality and prejudices of a
vulgar education. "These poor women," reasoned the charitable
Mrs. Douglas, "are perhaps, after all, better characters in the sight of
God than I am. He who has endowed us all as His wisdom has seen fit, and
has placed me amongst them, oh, may He teach me to remember that we are
all His children, and enable me to bear with their faults, while I study
to correct my own."

Thus did this amiable woman contrive not only to live in peace, but,
without sacrificing her own liberal ideas, to be actually beloved by
those amongst whom her lot had been cast, however dissimilar to herself.
But for that Christian spirit (in which must ever be included a liberal
mind and gentle temper), she must have felt towards her connexions a
still stronger repugnance than was even manifested by Lady Juliana; for
Lady Juliana's superiority over them was merely that of refined habits
and elegant manners; whereas Mrs. Douglas's was the superiority of a
noble and highly-gifted mind, which could hold no intercourse with
theirs except by stooping to the level of their low capacities. But,
that the merit of her conduct may be duly appreciated, I shall endeavour
to give a slight sketch of the female _dramatis personae_ of Glenfern
Castle.

Miss Jacky, the senior of the trio, was what is reckoned a very sensible
woman--which generally means, a very disagreeable, obstinate, illiberal
director of all men, women, and children--a sort of superintendent of
all actions, time, and place--with unquestioned authority to arraign,
judge, and condemn upon the statutes of her own supposed sense. Most
country parishes have their sensible woman, who lays down the law on all
affairs, spiritual and temporal. Miss Jacky stood unrivalled as the
sensible woman of Glenfern. She had attained this eminence partly from
having a little more understanding than her sisters, but principally
from her dictatorial manner, and the pompous decisive tone in which she
delivered the most commonplace truths. At home her supremacy in all
matters of sense was perfectly established; and thence the infection,
like other superstitions, had spread over the whole neighbourhood. As
sensible woman she regulated the family, which she took care to let
everybody see; she was conductor of her nieces' education, which she
took care to let everybody hear; she was a sort of postmistress
general--a detector of all abuses and impositions; and deemed it her
prerogative to be consulted about all the useful and useless things
which everybody else could have done as well. She was liberal of her
advice to the poor, always enforcing upon them the iniquity of idleness,
but doing nothing for them in the way of employment--strict economy
being one of the many points in which she was particularly sensible. The
consequence was, while she was lecturing half the poor women in the
parish for their idleness, the bread was kept out of their mouths by the
incessant carding of wool and knitting of stockings, and spinning, and
reeling, and winding, and pirning, that went on amongst the ladies
themselves. And, by-the-bye, Miss Jacky is not the only sensible woman
who thinks she is acting a meritorious part when she converts what ought
to be the portion of the poor into the employment of the affluent.

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