Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume I Part 23

'But why are ye no puttin' up your silk goun, Jessy?' here interposed her mother, abruptly; seeing her daughter laying aside the article of dress she referred to, as if she did not intend it should have a place in the little chest she was packing.

'The silk gown, mother, I'll no tak wi' me,' replied Jessy, smiling; 'I'll leave't at hame till better times come roun'. It would hardly become my station now, mother, to be gaun flaunting about in silks.'

'Too true, Jessy,' said her mother with a sigh. 'It may be as weel, as ye say, to leave't at hame for a wee, till times mend wi' us at ony rate, although G.o.d only knows when that may be, if ever.'

'I'll keep it for my wedding gown, mother,' said Jessy, laughingly, and with an intention of counteracting the depressing tendency of her inadvertent remarks on the propriety of her leaving her silk gown behind. 'I'll keep it for my wedding dress, mother,' she said, 'although it's mair than likely that a plainer attire will be mair suitable for that occasion too.'

'Nae sayin', Jessy,' replied her mother. 'Ye'll maybe get a canny laird yet, that can ride to market wi' siller spurs on his boots and gowd lace on his hat.'

'Far less will please me, mither,' replied Jessy, blus.h.i.+ng and laughing at the same time. 'I never, even in our best days, looked so high, and it would ill become me to do so now.'

With such conversation as this did mother and daughter endeavour to divert their minds from dwelling on the painful reflection which the latter's occupation was so well calculated to excite.

An early hour of the following morning saw Jessy Flowerdew seated in a little cart, well lined with straw by her doting father, who proposed driving her himself into the city. A _small, blue-painted chest_, a bandbox, and one or two small bundles, formed the whole of her travelling accompaniments. She herself was wrapped in a scarlet mantle, and wore on her head a light straw bonnet, of tasteful shape, and admirably adapted to the complexion and contour of the fine countenance which it gracefully enclosed.

After a delay of a few minutes--for the cart in which Jessy was seated was still standing at the door--her father, dressed in his Sunday's suit, came out of the house, stepped up to the horse's head, took the reins in his hand, and gently put in motion the little humble conveyance which was to bear his daughter away from the home of her childhood, and to place her in the house of the stranger. Unable to sustain the agony of a last parting, Jessy's mother had not come out of the house to see her daughter start on her journey; but she was seen, when the cart had proceeded a little way, standing at the door, with her ap.r.o.n at her eyes, looking after it with an expression of the most heartfelt sorrow.

'There's my mother, father,' said Jessy, in a choking voice, on getting a sight of the former in the affecting att.i.tude above described--but she could add no more. In the next instant her face was buried in her handkerchief. Her father turned round on her calling his attention to her mother, but instantly, and without saying a word, resumed the silent, plodding pace which the circ.u.mstance had for a moment interrupted.

In little more than an hour the humble equipage, whose progress we have been tracing, entered the city. Humble, however, as that equipage was, it did not prevent the pa.s.sers-by from marking the singular beauty of her by whom it was occupied. Many were they who looked round, and stood and gazed in admiration after the little cart and its occupant, as they rattled along the 'stony street.' Their further progress, however, was now a short one. In a few minutes Flowerdew and his daughter found themselves at the professor's door. The former now tenderly lifted out Jessy from the cart--for her sylph-like form, so light and slender, was nothing in the arms of the robust farmer--and placed her in safety on the flag-stones. Her little trunk and bandbox were next taken out by the same friendly hand, and deposited beside her. This done, Flowerdew rapped at the professor's door. It was opened. The father and daughter entered; and, in an hour after--long before which her father had left her--the latter was engaged in the duties of her new situation.

Days, weeks, and months, as they will always do, now pa.s.sed away, but they still found Jessy in the service of her first employers, whose esteem she had gained by the gentleness of her nature, the modesty of her demeanour, and the extreme propriety of her conduct.

At the time of her first entering into the service of Professor Lockerby, Jessy Flowerdew had just completed her sixteenth year. The charms of her person had not then attained their full perfection. But now that two years more had pa.s.sed over her head--for this interval must be understood to have elapsed before we resume our tale--her face and figure had attained the zenith of their beauty, a beauty that struck every beholder, and in every beholder excited feelings of unqualified admiration.

It was about the end of two years after Jessy's advent into the family of the professor, that the latter one morning, raising his head from a letter which he had just been reading, and, turning to the former, who was in the act of removing the breakfast equipage, said--

'Jessy, my girl, will you be so good as put the little parlour and bedroom up stairs in the best order you can, as I expect a young gentleman to-morrow, who is to become a boarder with us.'

Jessy courtseyed her acquiescence in the order just given her, and retired from the apartment to fulfil it.

On the following day a travelling carriage, whose panels were adorned with a coronet, drove up to the door of Professor Lockerby. From this carriage descended a young man, apparently between nineteen and twenty years of age, of the most prepossessing appearance. His countenance was pale, but bore an expression of extreme mildness and benevolence. His figure was tall and slender, but handsomely formed; while his whole manner and bearing bespoke the man of high birth and breeding.

On descending from his carriage, the young man was received by the professor with the most respectful deference--too respectful it seemed to be for the taste of him to whom it was addressed, for he instantly broke through the cold formality of the meeting, by grasping the professor's hand, and shaking it with the heartiest and most cordial goodwill, saying while he did so--

'I hope I see you well, professor.'

'In perfect health, I thank you, my lord,' replied the professor. 'I hope you left your good lady mother, the countess, well.'

'Quite well--I'm obliged to you, professor--as lively and stirring, and active as ever. Hot and hasty, and a little queenly in her style now and then, as you know, but still the open heart and the open hand of the Wis...o...b..rys.'

'I have the honour of knowing the countess well, my lord,' replied the professor, 'and can bear testimony to the n.o.bleness of her nature and disposition. I have known many, many instances of it.'

With such conversation as this, the professor and his n.o.ble boarder--for such was the young man whom we have just introduced to the reader--entered the house. Who this young man was, and what was his object in taking up his abode with Professor Lockerby, we will explain in a few words, although such explanation is rendered in part nearly unnecessary by the conversation just recorded between him and the professor. It may not be amiss, however, to say, in more distinct terms, that he was the Earl of Wis...o...b..ry, a rank which he had attained just a year before, by the sudden and premature death of his father, who died in the forty-fifth year of his age. Since his accession to the t.i.tle of his ancestors, the young earl had continued to live in retirement with his mother, a woman of a n.o.ble, elevated, and generous soul, well becoming her high lineage--for she, too, was descended of one of the n.o.blest families in England--but in whose temper there was occasionally made visible a dash of the leaven of aristocracy.

On her son, the young earl, her only surviving child, she doted with all the affection of the fondest and tenderest of mothers; and well worthy was that son of all the love she could bestow. His was one of those natures which no earthly elevation can corrupt, no fact.i.tious system deprive of its innate simplicity.

The promotion of the young earl to the head of his ill.u.s.trious house, was, however, a premature one in more respects than one. One of these was to be found in the circ.u.mstance of the young man's being found unprepared--at least so he judged himself--in the matter of education, to fill with credit the high station to which he was so unexpectedly called. His education, in truth, had been rather neglected; and it was to make up for this neglect, to recover his lost ground with all the speed possible, that he was now come to reside for a few months with Professor Lockerby, who had once acted as tutor in his father's family to a brother who had died young.

Such, then, was the professor's boarder, and such was the purpose for which he became so.

The favourable impression which the youthful earl's first appearance had made, suffered no diminution by length of acquaintance. Mild and unpresuming, he won the love of all who came in contact with him. The little personal services he required, he always solicited, never commanded; and what he could with any propriety do himself, he always did, without seeking other a.s.sistance.

A quiet and unostentatious inmate of the professor's, time rolled rapidly, but gently and imperceptibly, over the head of the young earl, until a single week only intervened between the moment referred to, and the period fixed on for his return to Oxton Hall.

Thus, nearly six months had elapsed, not a very long period, but one in which much may be accomplished, and in which many a change may take place. And by such features were the six months marked, which the young Earl of Wis...o...b..ry had spent in the house of Professor Lockerby. In that time, by dint of unrelaxing a.s.siduity and intense application, he had acquired a respectable knowledge of both Latin and Greek, and in that time, too, he had taken a step which was to affect the whole tenor of his after life, and to make him either happy or miserable, as it had been fortunately or unfortunately made. What that step was we shall divulge, through precisely the same singular process by which it actually came to the knowledge of the other parties interested.

One evening, at the period to which we a short while since alluded--namely, about a week previous to the expiry of the proposed term of the earl's residence with Professor Lockerby--as Jessy Flowerdew was about to remove the tea equipage from the table of the little parlour in which the professor and his n.o.ble pupil usually conducted their studies, the latter suddenly rose from his seat, and, looking at their fair handmaiden with a serious countenance, said--

'Jessy, my love, you must not perform this service again, nor any other of a similar kind. You are now my wife--you are now Countess of Wis...o...b..ry.'

We leave it to the reader to imagine, after his own surprise has a little subsided, what was that of the worthy professor, on hearing his n.o.ble pupil make so extraordinary, so astounding a declaration--a declaration not less remarkable for its import, than for the occasion on which, and the manner in which it was made.

On recovering from his astonishment, 'My lord,' said the good professor, with a grave and stern countenance, 'be good enough to inform me what this extraordinary conduct means? What can have been your motive, my lord, for using the highly improper and most unguarded language which I have just now heard you utter?'

The young earl, with the greatest calmness and deference of manner, approached the professor, laid his hand upon his heart, and, with a graceful inclination, said, slowly and emphatically--

'Upon my honour, sir, she _is_ my wife!'

'What, my lord!' exclaimed the still more and more amazed professor--and now starting from his chair in his excitation--'do you repeat your most unbecoming and incredible a.s.sertion?'

'I do, sir,' replied the earl, in the same calm and respectful manner.

'I do repeat it, and say, before G.o.d, that Jessy Flowerdew is the lawfully married wife of the Earl of Wis...o...b..ry.'

'Well, my lord, well,' said the professor, in angry agitation, 'I know what is my duty in this most extraordinary case. It is to give instant notice to the countess, your mother, of what I must call, my lord, the extremely rash and unadvised step you have taken.'

To this threat and rebuke, the earl replied, with the utmost composure and politeness of manner--'I was not unprepared, sir, for your resentment on this occasion. Neither do I take it in the least amiss.

You merely do your duty when you tell me I have forgotten mine. But the step I have taken, sir, allow me to say, although it may appear unadvised, has not been so in reality. I have weighed well the consequences, and am quite prepared to abide them.'

'Be it so, my lord, be it so,' replied the professor. 'I have only now to remark that, as you say you were prepared for _my_ resentment, I hope you are also prepared for your mother's, my lord--a matter of much more serious moment.'

'My mother, sir, I will take in my own hands,' replied the earl; 'she can resent, but she can also forgive.'

'I have no more to say, my lord, no more,' rejoined Mr. Lockerby; 'the matter must now be put into the hands of those who have a better right to judge of its propriety than I have. I shall presume on no further remark on the subject.'

'Come, sir,' said the earl, smiling and extending his hand to the professor, 'let this, if you please, be no cause for difference between us. I propose that we allow the matter to lie in abeyance until my mother has been appealed to; she being the only person, you know, who has a right to be displeased with my proceeding, or whose wishes I was called upon to consult in this matter.'

'Excuse me, my lord,' replied the worthy professor; 'but I must positively decline all interchange of courtesies which may, by any possibility, be construed into an overlooking of this very extraordinary affair.'

'Well, well, my good sir,' said the earl, smiling, and still maintaining the equanimity of his temper, 'judge of me as charitably as you can. In the morning, we shall meet, I trust, better friends.' Saying this, he took up one of the candles which were on the table before him, bade the professor a polite and respectful good night, and retired to his own apartment.

The earl had no sooner withdrawn than Mr. Lockerby, after collecting himself a little, commenced inditing a letter to the Countess Dowager of Wis...o...b..ry, apprising her of what had just occurred. In speaking, however, of the 'degrading' connection which her son had made, the honest man's sense of justice compelled him to add a qualifying explanation of the term which he had employed--'degrading, I mean,' he said, '_in point of wealth, rank, and accomplishments_; for, in all other respects, in conduct and character, in temper and disposition, and, above all, in personal appearance--for she is certainly eminently beautiful--I must admit that her superior may not easily be found.'

The letter that contained these remarks, with the other information connected with it, the professor despatched on the same night on which it was written; and, having done this, awaited with what composure and fort.i.tude he could command, the dreadful explosion of aristocratic wrath and indignation, which, he had no doubt, would speedily follow.

Leaving matters in this extraordinary position in the house of Professor Lockerby we shall s.h.i.+ft the scene, for a moment, to the Countess Dowager of Wis...o...b..ry's sitting apartment in Oxton Hall; and we shall choose the moment when her favourite footman, Jacob Asterley, has entered her presence, after his return from a call at the post-office in the neighbouring village; the time being the second day after the occurrence just previously related--namely, the despatch to Oxton Hall of Professor Lockerby's letter.

'Well, Jacob, any letters for me to-day?' said the countess, on the entrance of that worthy official.