Chapter 9

The money was handed to him by the lady, without saying a word; and, having again made a low bow, he departed.

Next year, Geordie Willison went and paid a visit to Lady Maitland, got from her the same sum of money, and nothing passed to indicate what it was paid for. The lady clearly remained under the impression that the child was not in existence.

It happened that, some time after the last payment, Geordie was on the pier of Leith, with a view to fall in with some chance message or carriage to Edinburgh. A vessel had newly arrived from the Continent, and one of the passengers was Sir Marmaduke Maitland. Geordie was employed to assist in getting his luggage removed to Edinburgh. On arriving at the house, Lady Maitland, with Louise behind her, was standing on the landing-place to receive her husband. They saw Geordie walking alongside of him, and talking to him in the familiar manner which his alleged silliness in many cases entitled him to do; but whatever they may have felt or expressed, by looks or otherwise, Geordie seemed not to be any way out of his ordinary manner, and they soon observed, from the conduct of Sir Marmaduke, that Geordie had said nothing to him. Geordie bustled about, assisting to take out the luggage, while Sir Marmaduke was standing in the lobby with his lady alongside of him.

"Is there any news stirring in these parts, Geordie, worth telling to one who has been from his own country so long as I have been."

"Naething worth mentioning, Sir Marmaduke," answered Geordie; "a'thing quiet, decent, and orderly i' the toun and i' the country--no excepting your ain house here, whar I hae missed mony a gude luck-penny sin' your honour departed."

"Has Lady Maitland not been in the habit of employing you, then, Geordie?" asked Sir Marmaduke.

"No exactly, Sir Marmaduke," answered Geordie; "the last time I ca'ed on her leddyship, she asked me what I wanted. I didna think it quite ceevil, and I haena gane back; but I canna deny that she paid me handsomely for the last thing I carried for her. She's a fine leddy, Sir Marmaduke, and meikle credit to ye."

At any subsequent period, when Geordie's yearly pension was due, he generally contrived to call for Lady Maitland when Sir Marmaduke was out of the way. He took always the same amount of money. The only departure he made from this custom was in the year of his sister's marriage, when he asked and got a sum of forty pounds, twenty of which he gave to her. Her husband, George Dempster, had at one time been a butler in Lady Maitland's family; but her ladyship did not know either that he was acquainted with George Willison, or that he was now married to his sister. We may explain that George Dempster was in the family at the time when Geordie brought home the child; and, in some of his conversations with his wife, he did not hesitate to say that he suspected that Lady Maitland bore a child to a French lackey, who was then about the house; but the child never made its appearance, and strong grounds existed for believing that it was made away with. Geordie himself sometimes heard these stories; but he affected to be altogether indifferent to them, putting a silly question to Dempster, as if he had just awakened from sleep, and had forgot the thread of the discourse, and, when he got his answer, pretending to fall asleep again.

In the meantime the young foundling, who had been christened Jessie Warriston, by Geordie's desire, grew up to womanhood. She became, in every respect, the picture of her mother--tall and noble in her appearance. Her hair was jet black, and her eye partook of the same colour, with a lustre that dazzled the beholder. Her manners were cheerful and kind; and she was grateful for the most ordinary attentions paid to her by Widow Willison, or her daughter--the latter of whom often took her out with her to the house of Ludovic Brodie, commonly called Birkiehaugh, a nephew of Sir Marmaduke Maitland, with whom George Dempster was serving as butler, in his temporary house, about a mile south from Edinburgh.

This young laird had seen Jessie Warriston, and been struck with her noble appearance. He asked Dempster who she was, and was told that she was a young person who lived with one of his wife's friends. Brodie, whose character was that of a most unprincipled rake, often endeavoured to make up to Jessie, as she went backwards and forwards between his house and Widow Willison's. In all endeavours he had been unsuccessful; for Jessie--independently of being aware, from the admonitions of the pious Widow Willison, that an acquaintanceship with a person above her degree was improper and dangerous--had a lover of her own, a young man of the name of William Forbes, a clerk to Mr. Carstairs, an advocate, at that time in great practice at the Scotch bar. Forbes generally accompanied Jessie when she went out at night, after she told him that Brodie had insulted her; and she discontinued her visits to George Dempster.

Foiled by the precautions which Jessie took to avoid him, Brodie only became more determined to get his object gratified. He meditated various schemes for this purpose. He turned off Dempster, who might have been a spy upon his conduct; and it was remarked, by the people living near to Widow Willison's, that a woman, rolled up in a cloak, had been seen watching about the door. Geordie, though apparently not listening to any of these transactions, was all alive to the interests of his foundling. He kept a constant eye upon the neighbourhood, and did not fail to observe, that a woman, of the description stated, came always, at a certain hour, near his mother's door, about the time that Jessie generally went out.

Now, Geordie was determined to know, by some means, who this woman was; and, as the day was drawing in, he thought he might disguise himself in such a way as to get into conversation with her.

Having equipped himself in the garb of a cadie, of more respectable appearance than he himself exhibited, and put a black patch over his eye, and a broad slouched hat over his head, Geordie took his station to watch the woman in the cloak.

"Wha may ye be waitin' for?" said Geordie, in a feigned voice, to the woman, whom he at last found.

"Are you von of de cadies?" asked the woman.

"Yes," answered Geordie.

"Do you live in de neighbourhood?" asked again the woman.

"I wadna live in ony ither place war ye to pay me for't," answered Geordie.

"Very good--dat is a very good answer," said the woman; "dere is a little money for you."

"I dinna tak siller for tellin' folk whar I live," said Geordie; "but, if there's onything else I can, in my capacity o' cadie, do for ye, maybe I may then condescend to tak yer siller."

"_Mon Dieu!_ vat a trange fellow!" ejaculated the woman. "Vell, can you tell me if a young woman, carrying the name of Jessie Varriston, lives up dat stair?" pointing with her hand.

"I ken the lassie as weel as I ken mysel," answered Geordie; "she lives just whar ye hae said."

"Very goot--very goot--dat is just vat I vant--_un sage homme_ dis--excellent goot chap. Now, tell me if de girl lives vit an imbecile that is von idiot, called George Villison, and how long she has lived vit him, vere she comes from, and vat is her history."

"Ye hae asked four questions a' in ae breath," said Geordie, who wanted a prologue, to give him time to consider how much he could say, so as to serve the two purposes of safety and drawing out the woman at the same time. "It's no quite fair, to an ignorant man like me, to put sae mony questions at a time; but it's my wish to serve ye, an' I'll do my best to answer them. Jessie Warriston lives wi' the idiot cratur Geordie Willison's mither, and she has lived wi' her for seventeen years, that is, since she was a bit bairn. I'm thinking she'll be a granddochter o' Widow Willison's--dinna ye think sae yersel'?"

"De brute!" muttered the woman to herself--"de brute is begun, like all de rest of his countrymen, to put de interrogation ven he should give de respond. You do not know den de girl's history, do you not?"

"No, but maybe I may be able to get it for ye," answered Geordie, unwilling to be dismissed _simpliciter_.

"Very vell, anoter time--I vish you, in de meantime, to carry dis letter to Ludovic Brodie, Esq. of Birkiehaugh. Do you know vere he lives?"

"I will carry it wi' the greatest o' pleasure, madam," answered Geordie.

The woman handed him the letter, with some more money, and departed.

Geordie got the letter speedily read to him by a person in his confidence. It was in these terms:--

"Mon cher Ludovic,--Jessie Varriston lives vit de idiot, Geordie Villison, in Leit Vynd. De bearer of dis knows her very vell, and vill assist you in de abduction. My Lady Maitland and I both tink we know her too; bot we do not vish at present to let any von know dis, for certain reasons, vich we cannot explain to you. Ven you arrange vit de bearer to carry her off, let me know, and I vill do every ting in my power to assist you, as my lady has a grand vish for de abduction of de vench vithout procrastination. My lady does not know of my having given you intelligence of her being up to de affair.--Yours till death.

"LOUISE GRECOURT."

From this letter, Geordie saw plainly that Lady Maitland and Louise had, at last, got some information regarding Jessie, which had led them to suspect that she was the child they had supposed to be dead. It was clear, however, that Brodie knew nothing of their suspicions, and the two parties were, undoubtedly, after the same game, with different objects and for different reasons. Having folded the letter and sealed it, so as to avoid suspicion, Geordie went out and delivered it into the hands of Birkiehaugh.

Brodie, having read the letter, examined Geordie from head to heel--"Canst thou be trusted, man, in an affair requiring secrecy and ability to execute it?" asked he.

"Do you see ony thing aboot me to produce ony doubt o' my ability or my secrecy?" answered Geordie. "Nae man will coup wi' Peter Finlayson in ony expedition whar death, danger, or exposure are to be avoided, or whar ability to plan, an' quickness to execute, and cunnin' to conceal, are things o' consideration or importance."

"Well, Peter, I believe thou art the man. I wish to carry off the girl, Jessie Warriston, to-morrow night--canst thou assist me in that enterprise?"

"It's just in the like o' thae bits o' ploys that the genius o' Peter Finlayson lies," answered Geordie. "I ken the lassie maist intimately, and can bring her to ony appointed spot at ony hour ye please to name."

"To-morrow night, then," said Brodie, "at eight o'clock, at the resting-stone at the top of the Leith Lone; knowest thou the place?"

"I do," answered Geordie; "and shall attend; but ye ken, I suppose, the difference that lies atween the ordinary jobs o' us cadies, and the like o' thae michty emprises, whar life and limb, and honour and reputation, are concerned. In the first case, the pay comes after the wark--in the ither, the wark comes after the pay; an' it's richt natural, whan ye think o't; because I hae often seen the city guard kick the wark and the warkmen to the deevil in an instant, and the puir cadie gets only broken banes for his pains."

"There, then," said Brodie, "there is half of thy fee; the other shall be given when thou bringest the girl."

"Vera weel," said Geordie, counting the gold pieces; "and thank ye. I wunna fail in my duty, I warrant ye."

Next night, at the time and place appointed, Geordie attended with his charge. He found Brodie in waiting with a carriage, in which was seated Louise. Jessie was told to enter, and complied. Brodie jumped in, and Geordie held out his hand for the other half of the fee, which he received. He now slipped a piece of twine round the handle of the carriage, so as to prevent it from being opened; and, in a moment vaulted up beside the coachman, whose hat, as if by mere accident, he knocked off.

"Gie me up my bannet, ye whelp," said the coachman, angrily.

"Cadies are no cadies to coachmen," answered Geordie, dryly; "your brains maun be far spent, man, when they canna keep a house ower their head."

The coachman jumped down for his hat, and Geordie, applying the whip to the horses, was off in an instant. The coachman cried, "Stop the coach!" Brodie, thinking it was a chase, cried to drive like the devil. Geordie obeyed to the letter, and dashed on like lightning.

The coach stopped, and was instantly surrounded by a number of people, who opened the door, and pulling the three inmates out, led them into a large building, the door of which was double-bolted, and made a tremendous noise as it revolved on its hinges. The party were taken up stairs, and introduced (Geordie leading the way with his hat in his hand) into a large room, where several people were present, apparently waiting for them.

"I beg leave to introduce," said Geordie, bowing low, "to yer lordship, the sheriff--wha has dune us the honour to receive us at this time in sae safe a place as the jail, whar we are perfectly free frae a' interruption--his honour, Ludovic Brodie, Esq. o' Birkiehaugh, and her highness, Louise Grecourt, a French leddy o' repute. They are anxious to receive yer opinion on a point o' law, in whilk they are personally concerned, a favour, I doutna, yer honour will condescend to grant."

The sheriff immediately set about taking a precognition, for which he had been, by Geordie, previously prepared. Brodie was committed on a charge of abduction; but Louise, on the intercession of Geordie and his ward, was allowed to get off. Some time afterwards, Brodie was tried, and sentenced to six months' imprisonment.

Geordie had now occasion to call upon Lady Maitland for his yearly allowance. Louise having been liberated without trial, it had not yet reached the ears of her or Lady Maitland that Peter Finlayson was, in fact, Geordie Willison. Brodie had made no communication of that fact as yet, and neither Louise nor Lady Maitland could have any idea that Geordie knew of the hand they had in the attempted abduction, or of their knowledge or suspicion that Jessie Warriston was the intended victim of their cruelty.

"My leddy," began Geordie, with his accustomed bow, but with more than his usual significancy of look, "this is the first time for these seventeen years that I hae been awantin' in my attention and duty as yer leddyship's freend; for I am ae day ahint the usual time o' my veesit to yer leddyship, for whilk mark o' disrespect I beg leave to solicit yer leddyship's pardon, upon the condition that I offer, that I shall promise, as I here most solemnly do, that I shall not be again wantin' in my duty to yer leddyship. Can I say I hae yer leddyship's pardon?"

Crucified by Geordie's cruel humour, but compelled to be silent, Lady Maitland signified her favour.

"Yer leddyship's condescension is a great relief to me," resumed Geordie. "They say Sir Marmaduke's nevey, Brodie o' Birkiehaugh, is in jail for attempting to rin awa' wi' a young lassie. What he was to do wi' her, God only kens, but there can be nae doubt that he would get sma' favour and grace frae yer leddyship to ony attempt on the puir cratur's life. Na, na--a nobility sae michtie as yer leddyship's, an' a saftness o' heart whilk far excels that o' the bleatin' ewe for the puir lambie that lies deein' by its side, couldna patroneeze onything like the takin' awa o' God's breath frae the nostrils o' innocence."

Geordie, whose cruelty was refined, paused, and fixed his eyes on the lady, who appeared to be in agony. She rose quickly, and went, as usual, to her bureau to give him money.

"Stop," said Geordie; "I haena asked ye for't yet. I dinna like awmous. It's only when I want to favour yer leddyship that I tak siller fra ye, and naething I hae yet said could warrant yer leddyship in supposing that I was to confer sic a favour on ye, at least at the particular time when ye rose to open yer kist; and I dinna need to say, that favours quickly conferred are sune repented o'. Weel, the bit lassie wham Birkiehaugh was after, is a young creature, ca'ed Jessie Warriston, wha lives wi' my mither. Few folk on earth ken meikle about her; but my mither swears that her mither maun hae been hanged, for she has a ring round her bonny white craig, like that on the neck o' the turtle doo. I laugh, an' say to the bonny bairn, that it will stan' in place o' a coral or cornelian necklace to her.--Ha! ha! I see your leddyship's inclined to laugh too--eh?"

And Geordie again eyed the lady, who was as far from laughing as the criminal at the stake.

"Weel," resumed the crucifier, "Birkiehaugh didna succeed--thanks to Peter Finlayson, honest fallow--and the lassie is safe again; but I hae made a vow, and I hope sae gude a ane will be regularly recorded whar it should be, that the first person wha tries to lay sae meikle as a finger on that bonny bairn's head, or blaw a single breath o' suspicion against her reputation, will meet wi' the just indignation o' Geordie Willison. An' noo, my leddy, I will favour ye by accepting, at yer hands, twenty pund."

Geordie received, and counted the money, as usual, and, with a bow, retired.

The six months of Birkiehaugh's confinement expired, and, about the same time, Sir Marmaduke Maitland died. Having had no children by his wife, the title and fine property of Castle Gower fell to Brodie, who was his brother's son--Brodie being the name of the family who had succeeded to the title. No time was lost by Brodie's man of business to take out a brief from Chancery, for getting him served heir male of taillie to the estate and honours. The brief was published, and no doubt anywhere prevailed of the verdict which would be pronounced under it.

About this time it was observed that Geordie Willison had long interviews with Advocate Carstairs; but neither his mother, nor his sister, nor, indeed, any person, could get him to say a word on the subject. His manner, in regard to the story of Jessie, had been all along quite uniform, and many years had passed since his mother had given up in despair all attempts to get him to divulge it. He was, at present, apparently very absent, as if something of great importance occupied his mind.

One day, on leaving the advocate, he went direct for the house of Lady Maitland. He was admitted as usual. He said he wished to see her ladyship and Louise together.

"I hae heard," began Geordie, "that my worthy freend, Sir Marmaduke, is dead. He was a gude man, and may the Lord deal mercifully wi' him! Ludovic Brodie, they say, is the heir, an' I dinna say he has nae richt to that title--though, maybe, it may cost some wigs a pickle flour to mak that oot. Noo, ye see, my Leddy Maitland, I hae dune ye some favours, and I'm just to take the liberty to ask ane in return. You an' yer freend, Louise, maun admit, in open court, that yer leddyship bore, upon the 19th day of February o' the year 16--, a dochter, and that that dochter is Jessie Warriston."

Geordie waited for an answer, fixing his eyes on Lady Maitland.

Louise immediately began to make indications of a spirit of opposition; and Lady Maitland herself, gathering up any traces of dignity, which the presence of Geordie generally dispersed, replied--

"Thou hast no proof, sir, of the extraordinary charge, thou hast now, for the first time, brought against me; and I cannot convict myself of a crime."

Louise blustered and supported her lady.

"Vat, in the name of God, is de meaning of dis fellow's demand? _Parbleu!_ He is mad--_de fou_--bad--vicked--mechant. Vere I your ladyship, I would trust him out, and give him de grand kick, and tomble him down de marche de stairs. Vy, sir, could you have de grand impudence to tell my lady she be de bad woman."

Geordie heard all this with calmness and silence.

"It's o' sma importance to me," he resumed, "whether yer leddyship comply wi' my request or no; for, indeed, though politeness made me ca' it a favour conferred upon me, the favour is a' the ither way. Let yer leddyship be silent, an' I'll prove that yer leddyship bore the bairn; but ye maun ken that Geordie Willison has nae power ower the law--when the seals are broken, the judgment will come; and I canna prove the birth o' the bairn without, at the same time, and by the same prufe, proving that ye attempted to strangle it, and left it for dead in the hedges o' Warriston. Here is yer leddyship's necklace, whilk I took fra the craig o' the struggling cratur, and here are the claes it had on, marked wi' draps o' blude that cam frae its little mouth. I show thae things no as proofs on whilk I mean a'thegither to rest, but only to testify to ye what ye sae weel ken, that what I say is true. Speak, noo, my leddies--your lives are i' the hands o' the idiot cratur Geordie Willison. If ye gang to the court, ye are saved--if ye winna, ye are lost. Will ye gang, or will ye hang?"

The women were both terrified by the statement of Geordie. Reluctant to make any such admission, they struggled with the various emotions of indignation, pride, and fear, which took, by turns, possession of their bosoms. Lady Maitland fainted, and Louise was totally unable to render her assistance; for she lay in a hysterical state of excitement on the floor. Geordie locked the door, and kept his eyes fixed on the females. He yielded them no aid; but stood like a destroying angel, witnessing the effects of his desolation. Lady Maitland at last opened her eyes, and having collected her senses, resolved to comply with Geordie's request. She said to him, that, provided nothing was asked beyond the questions, whether she bore the child on the day mentioned, and whether Jessie Maitland, whom she had secretly seen, was that child--she would answer them in the affirmative. This satisfied Geordie, and he departed.

On the day of the service of Ludovic Brodie, a brief was taken out in name of Jessie Warriston or Maitland, as heir female of taillie to the estate and title of Maitland of Castle Gower. Brodie and his agents had no notice of the brief until they came into court.

The briefs being read, Brodie's propinquity was proved, and no person had any idea that the existence of a nearer heir could be established. But the door of the court opened, and Lady Maitland and Louise Grecourt stood before the inquest. They swore to the birth of the child on the day mentioned, and that Jessie Maitland, who was presented to them in court by Geordie Willison himself, was that child.

An objection was taken by Brodie's agents, that the child was illegitimate, because it was born ten months, minus two days, after Sir Marmaduke went to the continent; but the judge overruled the objection, stating that it was the law of Scotland, that every child born within ten months of the husband's departure, is a legal child.

Jessie Warriston was, therefore, served heir, according to the terms of her brief. She went in her own carriage, in which sat Geordie Willison, to take possession of her estates and titles. She was now Lady Jessie Maitland of Castle Gower, and was soon afterwards united to William Forbes, her old lover.

THE SNOW STORM OF 1825.