Robert Scott Fittis

“ I thought, as I looked upon him, of our own boy.”
“Peace, Alice; you kindle afresh the embers of pain,” cried Sir Dacre. “Recall not the memory of that one dread sorrow which has for ever destroyed our happiness.”
“Grant me this captive’s life,” she cried passionately.
“Do you plead for him?”
“I plead and pray that he may be spared to forsake his evil career, and seek his fortune in some honourable path. It is hard that so young and so noble a stranger should die, and by our hands. Give him life, husband, though you may not give him liberty. His life is the boon I crave. ”

“ There a considerable concourse of men had assembled, partly armed, retainers and partly peasantry, straggled about on both sides of the water, some of the former trotting up and down on horseback, some lounging on the grass casting dice, whilst their steeds grazed at random. In the midst of a well-appointed band of jackmen appeared a knight in half-armour, Sir Robert Home, the Sheriff, a man of middle age, with a grey beard. A young page attended him, bearing aloft a spear with a gauntlet or glove on the point of it, as the well-known border emblem of peace and amity. ”

“ De Ermstein kept foremost, sometimes far in advance, for he rode with the fury of a blast. To take the outlaw, to drag him back to the fallen gibbet; he perilled his life—everything—to gratify his mortified pride and disappointed revenge. What disgrace it was to behold the outlaw free once more. Free! And on some following night the valley of Warkcliff might be gleaming with the red blaze of the burning village, and echoing the death-cries of the ravaged. The gibbet for the outlaw! ”

“ Had the proud, noble, childless knight of Warkcliff—the last of his illustrious line—lamented the fate of the lost infant so long, and now was about to plunge his dagger into the breast of that very child? Had Heaven spared that child’s life, and preserved him through many troubles, only that he might perish beneath the blow of the blinded father? The fateful, astounding words sounded to him like a death-knell; his hand relinquished the blood-stained steel, and he sprang from the ground, speechless and bewildered. ”

“ Thus had the outlaw discovered, at the eleventh hour, the secret of his birth. For years he had fondly cherished the conviction that he was descended from some noble line, and the whole effort of his life had been untiringly devoted to the discovery of his parentage. He had had his hours of deep depression and wild despair. As the clouds seemed to gather more thick and black around him, he often thought that they would never be dispelled; but always some hope cheered him on, and in that hope he was not deceived. And now there could be no obstacle to his union with the fair Eleanor ”

“ The heart that thocht the ill;
The feet that bore me wi’ sic speed
The comely youth to kill.”
—Gil Morice. DIE! Not while there was a hand to save! Not while there was keen steel unsheathing to break the captive’s bonds! Not while there was a power to control evil destiny, and blast the malice of the remorseless De Ermstein. Die? The star of Ruthven Somervil was in the ascendant, swiftly culminating.
What sound was that which rose from the swaying concourse? What sight was that which startled the grim executioner? The blast of a horn, and the drawing of a dagger by the priest. ”

“ An approving hum and murmur broke from the attendant soldiery, and there came a momentary palor over the captive’s face; but it was the result of a mere evanescent emotion, and soon passed away.
“Hear me, Sir Dacre,” he exclaimed, with passionate ardour. “You have pronounced my doom, and that doom I am ready to meet. The prospect of the speedy approach of death has terrors in it for those only who have found life pleasant, and who bask under the smile of fortune, and stand high and fair in the world, who have kindred and loving friends, who have wealth and luxury to leave behind them. ”

“ He could not have displayed more bravery had he then stood upon the battlements of Hunterspath, with all his wild band around him. Not all the power of De Ermstein—not all the horrors of approaching death—could daunt him in a moment when faint-heartedness would have been deep disgrace.
“You have dragged me hither,” began the outlaw, in a firm, measured tone, “to speak the doom which you are impatient to utter.”
“You are here,” answered Sir Dacre, standing up, “to receive that doom which your life of rapine makes justice. ”

“ Had he no thought that he would plunge you into despair?”
“It was not strictly an expulsion,” answered the youth, “for I abandoned the castle to escape his reproaches and the insolence of his wife.”
“That does not diminish his cruelty in my eyes,” replied Sir Dacre. “What knight of honour and feeling would have so made unhappy and wretched the life of an orphan youth who had no other protector? Elliot has my gratitude for his care of your infancy; but my scorn and hatred for the unmanly violence which made you what you have been. ”

“ But Sir James would say to himself, as he paced through his hall, and gazed on several grim portraits of the Elliots of Hawksglen with which it was decorated:—
“My mother’s mild precepts would avail in some other age and land; but they are vain in this Border country, where every man rights himself by his own hand, and wins honour and esteem by martial valour. When every man draws his blade in his own quarrel, dare I keep mine unsheathed without incurring disdain and disgrace? Nay—in these times I must uphold the dignity of our house with the steel in my grasp and the corselet on my breast.” ”

“ But oblivion is destined to swallow up all!”
“Let this outlaw live,” cried the lady, starting from the chair, and clasping her husband’s hands. “Shed no blood that may cry from the ground against us. Vengeance is the prerogative of Heaven alone. We who are in the midst of sorrow, who have no prospects but dark ones, we should excel in deeds of mercy. Let him live, keep him captive all his days, but shed no blood. ”

“ I will not listen to appeals for mercy to this noted outlaw—this villain whose pride and boast it is to plunder the domains of Warkcliff, and mortify their lord.”
“But, husband,” entreated the gentle-hearted lady, “resolve upon nothing until your passion has cooled down. Your spirits are flushed at this moment. There is no knightly virtue so brilliant as that of compassion for the vanquished foe.”
“But what a foe this is, Alice,” said the knight, “a mosstrooper—an outlawed and broken man—a miscreant who lives upon spoliation and rapine. ”

“ My followers will deeply revenge my death. Hang me upon a gallows high as Haman’s if you will; and each night your lady shall set her hood by the blaze of your burning villages. From one end of the wide domains of Warkcliff to the other shall ravage and destruction spread. And when, in the midst of ruth, and rapine, and bloodshed, you shall stand aghast, powerless against foes whose power you can neither break nor resist, you will then think on the evil day when Ruthven Somervil died!”
Lost in thought, De Ermstein waved his hand involuntarily ”

“ But at length he emerged into open view, and, ere either of them seemed aware, they met each other, knew each other at the first wild glance, and halted face to face.
“Miscreant!” gasped Sir Dacre, half-choked with fury. “The hangman’s fell hand should have rid the earth of thee. Why should Fate throw thy worthless life upon the sword of an English noble?”
Somervil replied not to the insolence of his foe, but, brandishing his blood-dyed falchion, he spurred upon him. They encountered with a crash, and the outlaw’s blade was shivered to the hilt. ”

“ A light footstep approached, and, looking up, Sir Dacre beheld his lady. She was in great agitation, and came up to his chair, and, taking him by the hand, said:
“Have you doomed the outlaw to death?”
“I have,” answered Sir Dacre. “I could, in justice, pronounce no other doom.”
“I beheld him through yonder window,” she [Pg 117] said, “and never did I behold a nobler-looking youth. With what grace and courage he confronted you; what emotion in his countenance; what defiance in his tone. Such a youth must not die so shameful a death. ”

“ Sir James, who hitherto had habitually evaded the young man’s enquiries in such a way as to leave him to suppose that he was of kin to the family in some degree, however remote, now endeavoured to soothe his lacerated feelings; but this was a vain effort, as the truth of the story could not be denied. The utmost the knight could do was to dissuade his protege from leaving the Castle in his first flush of shame and indignation. “A soft answer turneth away wrath,” but no soft words could allay the misery that filled the foundling’s bosom. ”

“ A troop of half-clad children romped about the burn-side; and some old men sate at doors, in the evening light, repairing rude implements of husbandry. When the two travellers were perceived by the youngsters, they eyed them attentively, and then, with a shrill outburst of delight, came running forward, and danced about the gaberlunzie, like the very elves of whom he had been speaking. He patted the heads of the girls, and chucked the chins of the boys, saying, meanwhile, to Eustace—“The bairns a’ ken the gaberlunzie. ”

“ At that moment, the blast of a horn pealed from the adjacent hill, and a cry arose—“Yonder is Altoncroft at last, wi’ a sturdy clump o’ spears at his back!” The Sheriff, avoiding Lauder’s renewed clutch at his bridle, rode back to his train.
The summit of the height was crowned by a troop of horsemen, whose arms and armour flashed in the sunlight. They numbered double Ballinshaw’s party, which fact caused him to look nervous, and to whisper, in an agitated voice, to the gentle Johnston, who, with a stout aspect, strove to reassure him. ”

“ Eleanor and Ruthven were in conversation in the courtyard. The mosstrooper’s visor was still down, as it had been during the fight. Sir James approached.
“You will drink to the defeat of our foes?” he said.
“Nay, Sir James,” and the voice sounded strangely familiar in his ear. “With Sir Dacre de Ermstein vowing vengeance against me I have other things to think of. But judge me not a churl,” he went on, as he took Eleanor’s hand; “one touch from your daughter’s fingers, and one glance from her flashing eye, are reward enough for the Captain of Hunterspath.” ”

“ I gratify no private malice, no private feud, in pronouncing judgment of death upon a villain who stands outlawed by both kingdoms. And the terror of such a judgment may have a salutary effect upon the many lawless ruffians who infest the marches, and, by their depredations, [Pg 113] give constant causes for disturbing the peace of these kingdoms.”
“By destroying my life,” replied the outlaw—“a life placed at your mercy by an act of the foulest treachery—you shall gratify your own malice more than redress the sufferings of your dependants. ”

“ Eustace grew up a handsome youth, of a high spirit but an urbane and generous nature, which endeared him to all the dependants of Hawksglen. Lady Elliot, seeing in him more and more the likely cause of future trouble and danger, never ceased plying her insidious arts against him. ”

“ The mosstrooper heard the words of recognition—heard that he was called the son of De Ermstein, and heir of Warkcliff—felt himself pressed in the arms of a father. What were his emotions? The event was stupifying. And [Pg 140] father and son rose from the ground with tumultuous feelings.
“You are safe—you will live?” cried Sir Dacre. “I have not stained my hands with your blood?”
The mosstrooper was unwounded. He might be giddy and faint; but not a life-drop of his had been lost. How the band stared in speechless amazement. No man could scarce credit what he heard and saw. ”

“ Probably the lady hoped that the revelation to her daughters would destroy the attachment betwixt Eleanor and Eustace, which, if allowed to exist, might result in love. Inconsiderate woman! she had no idea that she was taking the very step to thwart her own purpose. Catherine acted upon her mother’s counsels, in holding Eustace in undisguised indifference. But with Eleanor it was otherwise. To tell her that Eustace was the son of misfortune, cast upon strangers in his helpless infancy, was but to give new life to the affection for him which had grown in her mind. ”