Guy Mannering, Vol. I

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Mr. Mac-Morlan now entered the room. The well-known character of
Colonel Mannering at once disposed this gentleman, who was a man
of intelligence and probity, to be open and confidential. He
explained the advantages and disadvantages of the property. 'It
was settled,' he said, 'the greater part of it at least, upon
heirs-male, and the purchaser would have the privilege of
retaining in his hands a large proportion of the price, in case of
the reappearance, within a certain limited term, of the child who
had disappeared.'

'To what purpose, then, force forward a sale?' said Mannering.
Mac-Morlan smiled. 'Ostensibly,' he answered, 'to substitute the
interest of money instead of the ill-paid and precarious rents of
an unimproved estate; but chiefly it was believed, to suit the
wishes and views of a certain intended purchaser, who had become a
principal creditor, and forced himself into the management of the
affairs by means best known to himself, and who, it was thought,
would find it very convenient to purchase the estate without
paying down the price.'

Mannering consulted with Mr. Mac-Morlan upon the steps for
thwarting this unprincipled attempt. They then conversed long on
the singular disappearance of Harry Bertram upon his fifth
birthday, verifying thus the random prediction of Mannering, of
which, however, it will readily be supposed he made no boast. Mr.
Mac-Morlan was not himself in office when that incident took
place; but he was well acquainted with all the circumstances, and
promised that our hero should have them detailed by the sheriff-
depute himself, if, as he proposed, he should become a settler in
that part of Scotland. With this assurance they parted, well
satisfied with each other and with the evening's conference.

On the Sunday following, Colonel Mannering attended the parish
church with great decorum. None of the Ellangowan family were
present; and it was understood that the old Laird was rather worse
than better. Jock Jabos, once more despatched for him, returned
once more without his errand; but on the following day Miss
Bertram hoped he might be removed.

CHAPTER XIII

They told me, by the sentence of the law,
They had commission to seize all thy fortune.
Here stood a ruffian with a horrid face,
Lording it o'er a pile of massy plate,
Tumbled into a heap for public sale;
There was another, making villainous jests
At thy undoing; he had ta'en possession
Of all thy ancient most domestic ornaments.

OTWAY.

Early next morning Mannering mounted his horse and, accompanied by
his servant, took the road to Ellangowan. He had no need to
inquire the way. A sale in the country is a place of public resort
and amusement, and people of various descriptions streamed to it
from all quarters.

After a pleasant ride of about an hour, the old towers of the ruin
presented themselves in the landscape. The thoughts, with what
different feelings he had lost sight of them so many years before,
thronged upon the mind of the traveller. The landscape was the
same; but how changed the feelings, hopes, and views of the
spectator! Then life and love were new, and all the prospect was
gilded by their rays. And now, disappointed in affection, sated
with fame and what the world calls success, his mind, goaded by
bitter and repentant recollection, his best hope was to find a
retirement in which he might nurse the melancholy that was to
accompany him to his grave. 'Yet why should an individual mourn
over the instability of his hopes and the vanity of his prospects?
The ancient chiefs who erected these enormous and massive towers
to be the fortress of their race and the seat of their power,--
could they have dreamed the day was to come when the last of their
descendants should be expelled, a ruined wanderer, from his
possessions! But Nature's bounties are unaltered. The sun will
shine as fair on these ruins, whether the property of a stranger
or of a sordid and obscure trickster of the abused law, as when
the banners of the founder first waved upon their battlements.'

These reflections brought Mannering to the door of the house,
which was that day open to all. He entered among others, who
traversed the apartments, some to select articles for purchase,
others to gratify their curiosity. There is something melancholy
in such a scene, even under the most favourable circumstances. The
confused state of the furniture, displaced for the convenience of
being easily viewed and carried off by the purchasers, is
disagreeable to the eye. Those articles which, properly and
decently arranged, look creditable and handsome, have then a
paltry and wretched appearance; and the apartments, stripped of
all that render them commodious and comfortable, have an aspect of
ruin and dilapidation. It is disgusting also to see the scenes of
domestic society and seclusion thrown open to the gaze of the
curious and the vulgar, to hear their coarse speculations and
brutal jests upon the fashions and furniture to which they are
unaccustomed,--a frolicsome humour much cherished by the whisky
which in Scotland is always put in circulation on such occasions.
All these are ordinary effects of such a scene as Ellangowan now
presented; but the moral feeling, that in this case they indicated
the total ruin of an ancient and honourable family, gave them
treble weight and poignancy.

It was some time before Colonel Mannering could find any one
disposed to answer his reiterated questions concerning Ellangowan
himself. At length an old maidservant, who held her apron to her
eyes as she spoke, told him 'the Laird was something better, and
they hoped he would be able to leave the house that day. Miss Lucy
expected the chaise every moment, and, as the day was fine for the
time o' year, they had carried him in his easychair up to the green
before the auld castle, to be out of the way of this unco
spectacle.' Thither Colonel Mannering went in quest of him, and
soon came in sight of the little group, which consisted of four
persons. The ascent was steep, so that he had time to reconnoitre
them as he advanced, and to consider in what mode he should make
his address.

Mr. Bertram, paralytic and almost incapable of moving, occupied
his easy-chair, attired in his nightcap and a loose camlet coat,
his feet wrapped in blankets. Behind him, with his hands crossed
on the cane upon which he rested, stood Dominie Sampson, whom
Mannering recognised at once. Time had made no change upon him,
unless that his black coat seemed more brown, and his gaunt cheeks
more lank, than when Mannering last saw him. On one side of the
old man was a sylph-like form--a young woman of about seventeen,
whom the Colonel accounted to be his daughter. She was looking
from time to time anxiously towards the avenue, as if expecting
the post-chaise; and between whiles busied herself in adjusting
the blankets so as to protect her father from the cold, and in
answering inquiries, which he seemed to make with a captious and
querulous manner. She did not trust herself to look towards the
Place, although the hum of the assembled crowd must have drawn her
attention in that direction. The fourth person of the group was a
handsome and genteel young man, who seemed to share Miss Bertram's
anxiety, and her solicitude to soothe and accommodate her parent.

This young man was the first who observed Colonel Mannering, and
immediately stepped forward to meet him, as if politely to prevent
his drawing nearer to the distressed group. Mannering instantly
paused and explained. 'He was,' he said, 'a stranger to whom Mr.
Bertram had formerly shown kindness and hospitality; he would not
have intruded himself upon him at a period of distress, did it not
seem to be in some degree a moment also of desertion; he wished
merely to offer such services as might be in his power to Mr.
Bertram and the young lady.'

He then paused at a little distance from the chair. His old
acquaintance gazed at him with lack-lustre eye, that intimated no
tokens of recognition; the Dominie seemed too deeply sunk in
distress even to observe his presence. The young man spoke aside
with Miss Bertram, who advanced timidly, and thanked Colonel
Mannering for his goodness; 'but,' she said, the tears gushing
fast into her eyes, 'her father, she feared, was not so much
himself as to be able to remember him.'

She then retreated towards the chair, accompanied by the Colonel.
'Father,' she said, 'this is Mr. Mannering, an old friend, come to
inquire after you.'

'He's very heartily welcome,' said the old man, raising himself in
his chair, and attempting a gesture of courtesy, while a gleam of
hospitable satisfaction seemed to pass over his faded features;
'but, Lucy, my dear, let us go down to the house; you should not
keep the gentleman here in the cold. Dominie, take the key of the
wine-cooler. Mr. a--a--the gentleman will surely take something
after his ride.'

Mannering was unspeakably affected by the contrast which his
recollection made between this reception and that with which he
had been greeted by the same individual when they last met. He
could not restrain his tears, and his evident emotion at once
attained him the confidence of the friendless young lady.

'Alas!' she said, 'this is distressing even to a stranger; but it
may be better for my poor father to be in this way than if he knew
and could feel all.'

A servant in livery now came up the path, and spoke in an
undertone to the young gentleman--'Mr. Charles, my lady's wanting
you yonder sadly, to bid for her for the black ebony cabinet; and
Lady Jean Devorgoil is wi' her an' a'; ye maun come away
directly.'

'Tell them you could not find me, Tom, or, stay,--say I am
looking at the horses.'

'No, no, no,' said Lucy Bertram, earnestly; 'if you would not add
to the misery of this miserable moment, go to the company
directly. This gentleman, I am sure, will see us to the carriage.'

'Unquestionably, madam,' said Mannering, 'your young friend may
rely on my attention.'

'Farewell, then,' said young Hazlewood, and whispered a word in
her ear; then ran down the steep hastily, as if not trusting his
resolution at a slower pace.

'Where's Charles Hazlewood running?' said the invalid, who
apparently was accustomed to his presence and attentions; 'where's
Charles Hazlewood running? what takes him away now?'

'He'll return in a little while,' said Lucy, gently.

The sound of voices was now heard from the ruins. The reader may
remember there was a communication between the castle and the
beach, up which the speakers had ascended.

'Yes, there's a plenty of shells and seaware for manure, as you
observe; and if one inclined to build a new house, which might
indeed be necessary, there's a great deal of good hewn stone about
this old dungeon, for the devil here--'

'Good God!' said Miss Bertram hastily to Sampson, ''t is that
wretch Glossin's voice! If my father sees him, it will kill him
outright!'

Sampson wheeled perpendicularly round, and moved with long strides
to confront the attorney as he issued from beneath the portal arch
of the ruin. 'Avoid ye!' he said, 'avoid ye! wouldst thou kill and
take possession?'

'Come, come, Master Dominie Sampson,' answered Glossin insolently,
'if ye cannot preach in the pulpit, we'll have no preaching here.
We go by the law, my good friend; we leave the gospel to you.'

The very mention of this man's name had been of late a subject of
the most violent irritation to the unfortunate patient. The sound
of his voice now produced an instantaneous effect. Mr. Bertram
started up without assistance and turned round towards him; the
ghastliness of his features forming a strange contrast with the
violence of his exclamations.--'Out of my sight, ye viper! ye
frozen viper, that I warmed, till ye stung me! Art thou not afraid
that the walls of my father's dwelling should fall and crush thee
limb and bone? Are ye not afraid the very lintels of the door of
Ellangowan Castle should break open and swallow you up? Were ye
not friendless, houseless, penniless, when I took ye by the hand;
and are ye not expelling me--me and that innocent girl--
friendless, houseless, and penniless, from the house that has
sheltered us and ours for a thousand years?'

Had Glossin been alone, he would probably have slunk off; but the
consciousness that a stranger was present, besides the person who
came with him (a sort of land-surveyor), determined him to resort
to impudence. The task, however, was almost too hard even for his
effrontery--'Sir--sir--Mr. Bertram, sir, you should not blame me,
but your own imprudence, sir--'

The indignation of Mannering was mounting very high. 'Sir,' he
said to Glossin, 'without entering into the merits of this
controversy, I must inform you that you have chosen a very
improper place, time, and presence for it. And you will oblige me
by withdrawing without more words.'

Glossin, being a tall, strong, muscular man, was not unwilling
rather to turn upon the stranger, whom he hoped to bully, than
maintain his wretched cause against his injured patron.--'I do not
know who you are, sir,' he said, 'and I shall permit no man to use
such d--d freedom with me.'

Mannering was naturally hot-tempered: his eyes flashed a dark
light; he compressed his nether lip so closely that the blood
sprung, and approaching Glossin--'Look you, sir,' he said,' that
you do not know me is of little consequence. _I_ KNOW YOU; and if
you do not instantly descend that bank, without uttering a single
syllable, by the Heaven that is above us you shall make but one
step from the top to the bottom!'

The commanding tone of rightful anger silenced at once the
ferocity of the bully. He hesitated, turned on his heel, and,
muttering something between his teeth about unwillingness to alarm
the lady, relieved them of his hateful company.

Mrs. Mac-Candlish's postilion, who had come up in time to hear
what passed, said aloud, 'If he had stuck by the way, I would have
lent him a heezie, the dirty scoundrel, as willingly as ever I
pitched a boddle.'

He then stepped forward to announce that his horses were in
readiness for the invalid and his daughter. But they were no
longer necessary. The debilitated frame of Mr. Bertram was
exhausted by this last effort of indignant anger, and when he sunk
again upon his chair, he expired almost without a struggle or
groan. So little alteration did the extinction of the vital spark
make upon his external appearance that the screams of his
daughter, when she saw his eye fix and felt his pulse stop, first
announced his death to the spectators.

CHAPTER XIV

The bell strikes one. We take no note of time
But from its loss. To give it then a tongue
Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke,
I feel the solemn sound.

YOUNG.

The moral which the poet has rather quaintly deduced from the
necessary mode of measuring time may be well applied to our
feelings respecting that portion of it which constitutes human
life. We observe the aged, the infirm, and those engaged in
occupations of immediate hazard, trembling as it were upon the
very brink of non-existence, but we derive no lesson from the
precariousness of their tenure until it has altogether failed.
Then, for a moment at least--

Our hopes and fears
Start up alarm'd, and o'er life's narrow verge
Look down--on what? a fathomless abyss,
A dark eternity, how surely ours!

The crowd of assembled gazers and idlers at Ellangowan had
followed the views of amusement, or what they called business,
which brought them there, with little regard to the feelings of
those who were suffering upon that occasion. Few, indeed, knew
anything of the family. The father, betwixt seclusion, misfortune,
and imbecility, had drifted, as it were, for many years out of the
notice of his contemporaries; the daughter had never been known to
them. But when the general murmur announced that the unfortunate
Mr. Bertram had broken his heart in the effort to leave the
mansion of his forefathers, there poured forth a torrent of
sympathy like the waters from the rock when stricken by the wand
of the prophet. The ancient descent and unblemished integrity of
the family were respectfully remembered; above all, the sacred
veneration due to misfortune, which in Scotland seldom demands its
tribute in vain, then claimed and received it.

Mr. Mac-Morlan hastily announced that he would suspend all farther
proceedings in the sale of the estate and other property, and
relinquish the possession of the premises to the young lady, until
she could consult with her friends and provide for the burial of
her father.

Glossin had cowered for a few minutes under the general expression
of sympathy, till, hardened by observing that no appearance of
popular indignation was directed his way, he had the audacity to
require that the sale should proceed.

'I will take it upon my own authority to adjourn it,' said the
Sheriff-substitute, 'and will be responsible for the consequences.
I will also give due notice when it is again to go forward. It is
for the benefit of all concerned that the lands should bring the
highest price the state of the market will admit, and this is
surely no time to expect it. I will take the responsibility upon
myself.'

Glossin left the room and the house too with secrecy and despatch;
and it was probably well for him that he did so, since our friend
Jock Jabos was already haranguing a numerous tribe of bare-legged
boys on the propriety of pelting him off the estate.

Some of the rooms were hastily put in order for the reception of
the young lady, and of her father's dead body. Mannering now found
his farther interference would be unnecessary, and might be
misconstrued. He observed, too, that several families connected
with that of Ellangowan, and who indeed derived their principal
claim of gentility from the alliance, were now disposed to pay to
their trees of genealogy a tribute which the adversity of their
supposed relatives had been inadequate to call forth; and that the
honour of superintending the funeral rites of the dead Godfrey
Bertram (as in the memorable case of Homer's birthplace) was
likely to be debated by seven gentlemen of rank and fortune, none
of whom had offered him an asylum while living. He therefore
resolved, as his presence was altogether useless, to make a short
tour of a fortnight, at the end of which period the adjourned sale
of the estate of Ellangowan was to proceed.

But before he departed he solicited an interview with the Dominie.
The poor man appeared, on being informed a gentleman wanted to
speak to him, with some expression of surprise in his gaunt
features, to which recent sorrow had given an expression yet more
grisly. He made two or three profound reverences to Mannering, and
then, standing erect, patiently waited an explanation of his
commands.

'You are probably at a loss to guess, Mr. Sampson,' said
Mannering, 'what a stranger may have to say to you?'

'Unless it were to request that I would undertake to train up some
youth in polite letters and humane learning; but I cannot--I
cannot; I have yet a task to perform.'

'No, Mr. Sampson, my wishes are not so ambitious. I have no son,
and my only daughter, I presume, you would not consider as a fit
pupil.'

'Of a surety no,' replied the simple-minded Sampson. 'Nathless, it
was I who did educate Miss Lucy in all useful learning, albeit it
was the housekeeper who did teach her those unprofitable exercises
of hemming and shaping.'

'Well, sir,' replied Mannering, 'it is of Miss Lucy I meant to
speak. You have, I presume, no recollection of me?'

Sampson, always sufficiently absent in mind, neither remembered
the astrologer of past years, nor even the stranger who had taken
his patron's part against Glossin, so much had his friend's sudden
death embroiled his ideas.

'Well, that does not signify,' pursued the Colonel; 'I am an old
acquaintance of the late Mr. Bertram, able and willing to assist
his daughter in her present circumstances. Besides, I have
thoughts of making this purchase, and I should wish things kept in
order about the place; will you have the goodness to apply this
small sum in the usual family expenses?' He put into the Dominie's
hand a purse containing some gold.

'Pro-di-gi-ous!' exclaimed Dominie Sampson. 'But if your honour
would tarry--'

'Impossible, sir, impossible,' said Mannering, making his escape
from him.

'Pro-di-gi-ous!' again exclaimed Sampson, following to the head of
the stairs, still holding out the purse. 'But as touching this
coined money--'

Mannering escaped downstairs as fast as possible.

'Pro-di-gi-ous!' exclaimed Dominie Sampson, yet the third time,
now standing at the front door. 'But as touching this specie--'

But Mannering was now on horseback, and out of hearing. The
Dominie, who had never, either in his own right or as trustee for
another, been possessed of a quarter part of this sum, though it
was not above twenty guineas, 'took counsel,' as he expressed
himself, 'how he should demean himself with respect unto the fine
gold' thus left in his charge. Fortunately he found a
disinterested adviser in Mac-Morlan, who pointed out the most
proper means of disposing of it for contributing to Miss Bertram's
convenience, being no doubt the purpose to which it was destined
by the bestower.

Many of the neighbouring gentry were now sincerely eager in
pressing offers of hospitality and kindness upon Miss Bertram. But
she felt a natural reluctance to enter any family for the first
time as an object rather of benevolence than hospitality, and
determined to wait the opinion and advice of her father's nearest
female relation, Mrs. Margaret Bertram of Singleside, an old
unmarried lady, to whom she wrote an account of her present
distressful situation.

The funeral of the late Mr. Bertram was performed with decent
privacy, and the unfortunate young lady was now to consider
herself as but the temporary tenant of the house in which she had
been born, and where her patience and soothing attentions had so
long 'rocked the cradle of declining age.' Her communication with
Mr. Mac-Morlan encouraged her to hope that she would not be
suddenly or unkindly deprived of this asylum; but fortune had
ordered otherwise.

For two days before the appointed day for the sale of the lands
and estate of Ellangowan, Mac-Morlan daily expected the appearance
of Colonel Mannering, or at least a letter containing powers to
act for him. But none such arrived. Mr. Mac-Morlan waked early in
the morning, walked over to the Post-office,--there were no
letters for him. He endeavoured to persuade himself that he should
see Colonel Mannering to breakfast, and ordered his wife to place
her best china and prepare herself accordingly. But the
preparations were in vain. 'Could I have foreseen this,' he said,
'I would have travelled Scotland over, but I would have found some
one to bid against Glossin.' Alas! such reflections were all too
late. The appointed hour arrived; and the parties met in the
Masons' Lodge at Kippletringan, being the place fixed for the
adjourned sale. Mac-Morlan spent as much time in preliminaries as
decency would permit, and read over the articles of sale as slowly
as if he had been reading his own death-warrant. He turned his eye
every time the door of the room opened, with hopes which grew
fainter and fainter. He listened to every noise in the street of
the village, and endeavoured to distinguish in it the sound of
hoofs or wheels. It was all in vain. A bright idea then occurred,
that Colonel Mannering might have employed some other person in
the transaction; he would not have wasted a moment's thought upon
the want of confidence in himself which such a manoeuvre would
have evinced. But this hope also was groundless. After a solemn
pause, Mr. Glossin offered the upset price for the lands and
barony of Ellangowan. No reply was made, and no competitor
appeared; so, after a lapse of the usual interval by the running
of a sand-glass, upon the intended purchaser entering the proper
sureties, Mr. Mac-Morlan was obliged, in technical terms, to 'find
and declare the sale lawfully completed, and to prefer the said
Gilbert Glossin as the purchaser of the said lands and estate.'
The honest writer refused to partake of a splendid entertainment
with which Gilbert Glossin, Esquire, now of Ellangowan, treated
the rest of the company, and returned home in huge bitterness of
spirit, which he vented in complaints against the fickleness and
caprice of these Indian nabobs, who never knew what they would be
at for ten days together. Fortune generously determined to take
the blame upon herself, and cut off even this vent of Mac-Morlan's
resentment.

An express arrived about six o'clock at night, 'very particularly
drunk,' the maid-servant said, with a packet from Colonel
Mannering, dated four days back, at a town about a hundred miles'
distance from Kippletringan, containing full powers to Mr. Mac-
Morlan, or any one whom he might employ, to make the intended
purchase, and stating that some family business of consequence
called the Colonel himself to Westmoreland, where a letter would
find him, addressed to the care of Arthur Mervyn, Esq., of Mervyn
Hall.

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