Page:Once a Week Dec 1860 to June 61.pdf/648

1, 1861.] question being aye thought a strange one: for, instead o’ demanding, as folk thought wad be natural, ‘Is she saved?’ his first question to the auld fish-wife, as she bent ower him, wer, ‘Is the body found?’ And he did na seem sae cut up as might hae been expected when they tauld him ‘nae.’

“But a’ the day and a’ the nicht he wer wandering backward and forward on the shore o’ the lake, as if he sought for treasure.

“At the first news o’ the disaster, Mistress Joan had come, and niver left her brother, and wer always at hand, bidingbidding [sic] him ‘bear up, bear it bravelie.’ Now, ’twer never expected he wad mourn for the Lady Janet; he’d never been the loving husband, generous and tender to the frail piece o’ womankind that o’ his ain free will he’d taken frae them as loved and tended her.

’Twer never expected he’d mourn the loss o’ a companion; though unmurmuringlie, and wi’out fail she’d been his slave!

“Therefore, why should he ‘bear up bravelie’? ’Twer soon explained, for it became evident that he wer terrified—just as though a keeper had lost some wild animal, and alway feared it might spring upon and devour him—and wi’ a’ Mistress Joan’s care, and tending, and courage, and face, that seemed as though they could beard a lion in his den, he quailed more and more, until they brought the news, as he wandered by the lake, that the ‘body o’ the Lady Janet had been recovered lower down the stream,’ and a’ that remained o’ the queen o’ the clan, the darling o’ sae mony hearts, wer laid in the Johnstoun Ha’, ance again for the last time. Then wer his terror seen in its true licht; and when he and Mistress Joan entered the solemn chamber, where the stillness o’ the marble form seemed to rebuke his fear, he sprang wildlie at it, and tearing off the covering, pointed, with the yell of a demon, to a gash in the left side, which, with his touch, began to ooze forth big drops o’ bluid.

“Mistress Joan had need to bear up bravelie then, for Sir Patrick sank down whimpering like a craven hound, and ne’er again had the licht o’ reason vouchsafed him; sometimes wild wi’ terror, sometimes cowed and feeble like a child, but alway a thing to dread, for he wer mad!

“Mistress Joan micht weel speak awsomelie o’ ‘the wound the sharp rock had made in her puir sister’s breast.’ Folk kenned weel eneuch that a sharper instrument than the rugged rock had struck the blow, which made the Lady Janet sink down like a stone when the boat capsized. And for a’ that he wer questioned Sandie wad never say a word except that ‘a’ things wad be made clear, wi’out the testimony o’ a puir Hielandmon,’ but he wer a silent altered mon frae that day forward, and ne’er wad cross the ferry wi’ any human being again. He went out alone, on the stormiest nichts;—gossips said he wer wandering in his mind, for he alway took a piece o’ rope wi’ him, and when he cam back i’ the morn the neighbours wad speer, ‘What for did ye gang yer gait, Sandie?’ His reply wer alway the same, ‘To be ready he wer ca’d for.’

“The Lady Janet Johnstoun, the last o’ her name, in her twenty-first year, wer buried solemnly in the presence o’ them as had served and loved her; kith or kin she had nane, near, but the Mistress Joan. And sae the young girl, whose earlie promise had been brighter and gayer than most, had lived a bitterer life, and died a crueller death, than is often heard of, and wer maist truthfullie and deeplie mourned by her foster sister, my ain mither.

“And now, my dears,” said Mrs. Bennet, after a long pause, which we had been too deeply impressed with her story to break in upon, “I dinna ken whether I’m richt in telling you what folks say, except it may be that ye winna place ower much stress upon it, but set it down to the superstition o’ a puir woman frae the north countree; and therefore, wi’out further preface, I maun tell ye that the Lady Janet Johnstoun nae rests in a grave o’ mon’s delving, but is still seen seeking for, nane can tell what. If it is permitted her to work retribution upon ony that so much as hurt one hair o’ her head, I wad say wi’ my whole heart may it be dune. But I fear this maun be impossible, as there’s nane we ken of to reap either ban or blessing by her name.

“But ’tis said by some, that every mortal has their span o’ life given wi’ its portion o’ joy and woe, and gin the life be cut off by ony unexpected stroke, still the spirit maun do its work, and, invisible to a’, perform its task unseen and unrewarded. And so, perchance, it may be wi’ her, and if it is, puir thing, surelie it maun be joy she’ll hae noo, for ’tis hard to think her share o’ sorrow wer not consumed while she walked here; but in ony case, I say as I’ve often heard my mither, ‘Peace to the Lady Janet Johnstoun.’

“And now, my bairns,” said Mrs. Bennet, rising and stroking my head, as I sat on a low stool by the fire, “gang awa’ to yer beds, and think na mair to-nicht o’ the auld woman’s story, for it’s getting very late, and ye’ll hae to be up betimes, because of a’ yer companie, and ye look pale and wearie noo, my dear.”

To describe the effect which Mrs. Bennet’s history had produced upon our minds would be impossible; it was the lifting of the curtain which revealed a life of bitterness hitherto unknown; and, obedient to her word, we separated for our respective chambers, after simply thanking her for the recital.

But would I not rather have remained in ignorance respecting the object of my former curiosity, the Lady Janet?

Assuredly I would.

Perhaps my readers may have arrived at the same conclusion with myself respecting my Christmas box, the Austrian ornaments. I had no doubt in my own mind that, strangely and by accident, I was in possession of what had formerly been the property of the Lady Janet, and the golden-haired chief was no other than himself, Lord Archdale Evry!

Pondering over these surmises, I entered my room, where the fire burned brightly, and the “Sleepy Hollow,” by its side, tempted me beyond my strength of resistance to sit down and give way to speculative conjecture on the subject; and I freely confess that, although the faded case lay in solitary grandeur on the table in the centre of