Rensselaer Republican, Volume 25, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 January 1893 — The Master of Ballantrae [ARTICLE]

The Master of Ballantrae

By Robert Louis Stevenson.

CHAPTER Xll— Continued. Still Mr. Henry only stared upon him with a glooming brow and a changed color: and at last the mas ter broke out in a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder, calling him a sulky dog. At this my patron leaped back with a gesture I thought very dangerous; ana I suppose the master thought so too; for he looked the least In the world discountenanced, and I do not remember him again to have laid hands on Mr, But"though he had his peril always on his lips in the one way or the other r I thought, his conduct strangely incautious, and began to fancy the government (who had set. a price upon his head) was gone sound asleep. I will not deny I was tempted with the wish to denounce him; but two thoughts withheld me; one that if he were thus to end his life upon an honorable scaffold, the' man would be canonized for good in the minds of his father and my patron’s wife; the other, that if I was any way mingled in the matter, Mr. Henry himself would scarce escape some glaneings of suspicion. And in the mean while our enemy went in and out more than I could have thought possible, the fact that he was home again was buzzed about the country-side; and yet he was never stirred. Of all these somauy and so-different persons who were acquainted with his presence, none had the least greed (as I used to say, in annoyance) or the least loyalty; and the man rode here and there —fully more welcome, considering the lees of old unpopularity, than Mr. Henry—and considering the free-traders far safer than myself. ' Not but what he had a trouble of his own; and this, as it brought about the gravest consequences, I must now relate. The reader will scarce have forgotten Jessie Broun; her way of life was much among the smuggling party; Captain Craii himself was of her intimates; and she had early word of Mr. Bally's presence at the house. In my opinion she had long ceased to care two . straws for the master’s person; but it was become her habit to connect herself continually with the master’s name; that was the ground of all her -■ play-acting, and so now when he was back, she thought she owed it to herself to grow a haunter of the neighborhood of Durrisdeer. The master could scarce go abroad but she was there in wait for him; a scandalous figure of a woman, not often sober; hailing him wildly as “her bonny laddie,” quoting peddler’s poetry, and as I receive the story, even seeking to weep upon his neck. I own I rubbed my hands over this Execution; but the master who id so much upon others, was himself the least patient of men. There were strange scenes enacted in the policies. Some say he took his cane to her, and Jessie fell back upon her former weapon, stones. It is certain at least that he made a motion to Captain Craii to have the woman trepanned, and that the captain refused the proposition with uncommon vehemence. And the end of the matter was a victory for Jessie. Money was got together; an interview took place in which my proud gentleman must consent to be kissed and wept upon; and the woman was set up in a public of her own, somewhere on Solway side (but I forget where) and by the only news I ever had of it, extremely ill-frequented. This is to look forward. After Jessie had been but a little while .upon his heels, the master comes to • me one day in the steward’s office, tind with more civility than usual, ? <t Mackellar,” says he, “there is a damned crazy wench comes about here. I can not well move in the matter myself, which brings me to you. - Be* so good as see to it; the men must have a strict injunction to drive the wench away. ” “Sir, n said I, trembling a little, “you can-do your own dirty errands for yourself.” He said not a word to that, and lets the coonp .-„ ;I Presently came Mr. Henry. < ‘Here is news!” cried he. ' “It seems all is not enough, and you must §dd to my, wretchedness. * It _ -seems you haveansulted Mr. Bally." “Under your kind favor, Mr. Henry,” said I, “it- was he that insult ed hjS u and as I think grossly. But I* may have been careless of your position when I spokp; and if you think so when ypu know all, my dear. patron, you have., but to say the word. For you I would'obey in any point .whatever, even 'fo.sin, God pardon me!” And thei*e upon I told him what had passed. Mr. Henry smiled to*- himself; a glimmer smile I never witnessed. “Yoq did exactly well,” said he. “He shall drink his Jessie Broun to .the dregs.” And then, spying the mastfcr outside, he opened the window. sand crying to him by the name of Mr. Bally, asked him to step up and have a word. “James," said he, when our perse.cutou had come in and closed the door behind him, looking at me with A smile as if ho thought I was to be “you brought me a complain* *‘agaiust Mr. Mackfcllar into whi<% I have inquired. I nqpd not tell, you I' would always t&k# his 'jmor# against ytmrsffor wq arU-alone, * and 1 ® am going -to use something of own freedom. Mr. MackeUar is a gentleman I value; and uou must tf(S' ( Hong as you aft under ~tlns roof, to bring yourself into no more collisions with one whom I will supportat any possible cost tome iHk . :** •'

or mine. As for the errand upon which you came to him, you must deliver yourself from the consequences of your own cruelty, and none of my servants shall be at all employed in such a case." “My father’s servants, I believe," says the master. _-_-Go-tQ-him with thin tale,” aaidMr. Henry, A-r-^rr.-:-—^ The master grew very white. He pointed at me with his finger. “I want that mart discharged,” he said. “He shall not be,” said Mt^Henify. “You shall pay pretty dear for this,” says the master. “I have paid so dear already for a wicked brother,” said Mr. Henry, “That. I am bankrupt even of fears. You have no place left where you can strike me.” ‘‘l will show you about that,” says the master, and went sos tly away. “What will he do next, Mackellar?” cries Mr. Henry. “Let me go away,’ 1 said I. “Mv dear patron, let me go awav: I am, but the beginning of fresh sorrows.” “Would you leave me quite alone?” said he. CHAPTER XIII. We were not long in suspense as to the nature of the new assault. Up to that hour, the master had played a very close game with Mrs. Henry; avoiding pointedly to be alone with her, which I took at the time for an effect of decency, but now think to be a most insidious art; meeting her, you may say, at meal-time only; and behaving, when he did so. like an affectionate brother. Up to that hour, you may say’ he had scarce directly interfered between Mr. Henry and his wife; except in so far as he had maneuvred the one quite forth from the good graces of the other. Now, all that was to be charged; but whether really in revenge, or because he was wearying of Durrisdeer and looked about for some diversion, who but the devil shall decide? From that hour at least began the seige of Mrs. Henry; a thing so deftly carried on that I scarce know if she was aware of it herself, and that her husband must look on in silence. The first parallel was opened (as was made to appear) by accident. The talk fell as it did often, on the exiles in France: so it glided to the matter of their songs. “There is one,"says the master, “if you arc curious in these matters, that has always seemed to me very moving. The poetry is harsh; and yet, perhaps because of my situation it lias always found the way to my heart. It is supposed to be sung, I should tell you, by an exile’s sweetheart, and represents perhaps, not so much the truth of what she is thinking, as the truth of what he hopes of her, poor Soul! in these far lands. ” And here the master sighed. “I protest it is a pathetic"sight when a score of rough Irish, all common sentinels, get to this song; and you may see by their falling tears, how it strikes home to them. It goes thus, father,” says he, very adroitly taking my lord for his listener, “and if I can not get to the end of it, you must think it is a common us exiles.” And thereupon he struck up the same air as I had heard the colonel whistle; but now to words, rustic indeed, yet most pathetically setting forth a poor girl’s aspirations for an exiled lover; of which one verse indeed (or something like it) stili sticks by me: “Oh. I will dyo my petticoat red. With my-dear boy beg my oread, Though all my friends should wish me " dead, For Willie among the rushes, O!” He sang it well even as a song; but he did better yet as a performer. I have heard famous actors, when there was not a dry eye in the Edinburgh theatre, a great wonder to behold; but no more wonderful than how the master played upon that little ballad and on those who heard him like an instrument, and seemed now upon the point of failing, and now to conquer his distress, so that words and music seemed to pour out of his own heart and his own past, and to be aimed direct at Mrs. Henry. And his art went further yet; for all was so delicately touched, it seemed impossible to suspect him of the last design; and so far from making a parade of emotion, you would have sworn he was striving to be calm. When it came to an end, we all sat silent for a time; he had chosen the dusk of the afternoon, so that none could see his neighbor’s face; but it seemed as if we held our breathing, only my old lord cleared his throat. The first to move was the singer, who got to his feet suddenly and softly, and went and walked softly to and fro in the lower end of the hall, Mr. Henry’s customary place. We were to suppose that' he there struggled the last of his emotion; for he presently returned and launched into a disquisition on the nature of the Irish (always so much miscalled, and whom he defended) in his natural voice , so that, before the lights were brought, we were in the usual course of talk. But even then, methought Mrs. Henry’s face was a shade pale; and for another thing, she withdrew almost at once. The next sign was a friendship this insiduous devil struck up with innocent Miss Catherine; so that they were always together, hand in hand, or she climbing on his knee, like a pair of children. Like all his diabolic acts, this cut in several ways. It was the last stroke to Mr. Henry, to see his own babe debauched against him; it made him harsh with the poor innocent, which brought him still a peg lower in his wife’s esteem; and (to conclude) it was a bond of union between the lady and the master. Under this lnj fluence. their old reserve melted by ' daily stages. Presently there came

walks in the long shrubbery, talks in the Belvedere. and! know not what was like many a good woman; she had a light and softness in her eye; she was more gentle with all of us, even with Mr. Henry, even with myself; methought she breathed of some To look on this, what a torment it was for Mr. Henry! And yet it brought our ultimate deliverance, as I am soon to tell. Thepurport oF the master’s stay was no. m°re noble (gild it as they might) than to wring money out. He had some design of a fortnne in the French Indies, as the chevalier .wjcote.me; and it was the sum required for this that The came seeking. For the rest of the family it spelled ruin ; but my lord, in his incredible partiality, pushed ever for thegranting. The family was so narrowed down (indeed there were no more of them than just the father and the two sons), that it was possible to "break the entail, and alienate a piece of land. And to this, at first bv hints, and then by open pressure. Mr. Henry was brought to consent. He never would have done I am very well assured, but forthe weight of the distress under which he labored. But for his passionate eagerness to see his brother gone, he would not thus have broken with his own sentiment and the traditions of his house. And even so, he sold them his consent at a dear rate, speaking for once openly and holding the business up in its own shameful colors. “You will observe,” he said, “this is an injustice to my son, if ever I haw one.” “But that you are not likely to have,” said my lord. “God knows!” said Mr. Henry. “And considering the cruel falseness of the position in which I stand to my brother, and that you, my lord, are my father and have the right to command me, I set my hand to this paper. But one thing I will say first: I have been ungenerously pushed, and when next, my lord, you are tempted to compare your sons, I call on you to remember what he has done. Acts are the fair test.” My lord was the most uneasy man I ever saw; even in his old face the blood came up. ‘ 1 think this is not a very wisely chosen moment, Henry, for complaints,” said he. “This takes away from the merit of your generosity.” “Do not deceive yourself, my lord,” said Mr. Henry. “This injustice is not done from generosity to him. but in obedience to yourself.” “Before strangers —” begins my lord, still more unhappily affected. “There is no one but Mackellar here,” said Mr. Henry; “he is my friend. And, my lord, as you make him no stranger to your frequent blame, it were hard if I must keep him one to a thing so rare as my defense.” Almost I believe my lord would have rescinded his decision; but the master was on the watch. “Ah, Henry, Henry,” says he, “you are the best of us still. Rugged and true! Ah, man, I wish I was as good.” And at that instance of his favorite’s generosity, my lord desisted from his hesitation, and the deed was signed. As soon as- it could be brought about, the land of Ochterhall was sold for much below its value, and the money paid over to our leech and sent by some private carriage into France. Or so he said; though. I have suspected since it did not go so far. And now here was all the man’s business brought to a successful head, and his pockets once more bulging with our gold; and yet the point for which we had consented to this sacrifice was still denied us, and the visitor still lingered on at Durrisdeer, Whether in malice, or because the time was not yet come for his adventure to the Indies, or because he had hopes of his design on Mrs. Henry, or from the orders of the government, who shall say? but linger he did, and that for weeks. You will observe I say, from the orders of Government, for about this time the man’s disreputable secret leaked out. The first hint I had was from one of the-Jtenants, who commented on the mas ter’.s stay and yet more on his security; for this tenant was a Jacobitish sympathizer, and had lost a son at Culloden, which gave, him the more critical eye. “There is one thing," said he, “that I cannot but think strange, and that is how he got to Cockermouth.” “To Cockermouth,” said I, with a sudden memory of my first wonder on beholding the man disembark so point-de-vice after so long a voyage. “Why, yeSj” says the tenant, “it was there he was picked up by Captain Craii. You thought he had come from France by sea? And so we all did.” I turned this news a little in my head, and then carried it to Mr. Henry. “Here’s an odd circumstance,” said I, and told him. “What matters how he came, Mackellar, as long as he is here?” groans Mr. Henry. “No, sir," said I, “but think again. Does not thM smack a little of some Government connivance? You know how much we have wondered already at the man’s security." “Stop," said Mr. Henry, “let me think of this." And as he thought, there came that grim smile upon his face that was a little like the master’s. “Give me paper,” said he. And he sat without another word and wrote to a gentleman of his acquaintance —I will name no unnecessary names, but he was one in a high place. This letter I dispatched by the only hand I could depend upon in JT'

such a case, Macconochie’s; and the old man rode hard, for he was back ness had ventured to expect him. Again, as He read it, Mr. Henry had 1 P S.WI1 1 "fin - ’■- ■ ~"r,i t 1 •" ~——--- “This is the best you have done fbr me yet, Mackeliar,” says he. ""With this”in my hand” TwM give him a shog. Watch for us at dinner” At dinner, accordingly, Mr. Henry proposed some very public appearance for the master; and my lord, as he had hoped, objected to the danger of the course. “Oh,” says Mr. Henry, very easily, 1 ‘you need no longer keep this up with me. lamas much in the secret as yourself.’’ “In the secret?” says my lord. “What do you mean, Henry? I give you my word I am in no secret from which you are excluded. ” The master had changed countenance, and I saw he was struck in a joint of his harness. “How?" says Mr. Henry, turning to him with a huge appearance (3 surprise. “I see you serve your masters very faithfully: but I had thought you would have been humane enough to set your father’s mind at rest. ” “What are you talking of? Irefuse to have my business publicly disj, cussed. I order this to cease," cries the master very foolishly and passionately, and indeed more like a child than a man. “So much discretion was not expected of you, I can assure you,” continued Mr. Henry. ‘ ‘For see what my correspondent writes’’—unfolding the paper —“ ‘lt is, of course, in the interests both of the Government and the gentleman whom we may perhaps best continue to call Mr, Bally, to keep this understanding secret; but it was never meant his own family should continue to endure the suspense you paint so feelingly; aud I am pleased mine should be the hand to set these fears at rest. Mr. Bally is as safe in Great Britain as yourself.” “Is this possible?” cries my lord, looking, at his son, with a great deal of wonder and still more of suspicion in his face. “My dear father,” says the master, already much recovered, “I am overjoyed that this may be disclosed. My own instructions direct from London bore a very contrary sense, and I was charged to keep the indul gence secret from everyone, yourself not excepted, and indeed yourself named—as I can show in black and white, unless I have destroyed the letter. They must have changed their mind very swiftly, for the whole matter is still quite fresh; or rather Henry’s correspondent must have misconceived the rest. To tell you the truth, sir,” he continued, getting visibly more easy, “I had supposed this unexplained favor to a rebel was the effect of some application from yourself; and the injunction to secrecy among my family the result of a desire on your part to conceal your kindness: Hence I was the more careful to obey orders. It remains now to guess by what other channel indulgence can have flowed on so notorious an offender as myself; for I do not think your son need defend himself from what seems hinted at in Henry’s letter. I have never yet heard of a Durrisdeer who was a turncoat or a spy,” says he, proudly. And so it seemed he had swam out of this danger unharmed; but this was to reckon without a blunder he had made, and without the’pertinaeity of Mr. Henry, who was now to show he had something of his brother’s spirit. “You say the matter is still fresh,” says Mr. Henry. “It is recent’” says the. master, with a fair show of stoutness and yet not without a quaver. “Is it so recent as that?” asks Mr. Henry, like a man a little puzzled, and spreading his letter forth again. In all the letter there was not a word as to the date; but how was the master to know that? “It seemed to come late enough for me,” says he, with a laugh. And at the sound of that laugh, which rang false like a cracked bell, my lord looked at him again across the table, and I saw his old lips draw together close. “No,” said Mr. Henry, still glancing on his letter, “but I remember your expression. You said it was very fresh.” And here we had a proof of our victory, and the strongest instance yet of my lord’s incredible indulgence; for what must he do but interfere to save his favorite from exposure! “I think, Henry,” says he, with a kind of pitiful eagerness, “I think we need dispute no more. Wo are all rejoiced at last to find your brother safe; we are all at one on that; and as grateful subjects, we can do no loss than drink to the king’s health and bounty.” Thus was the master extricated; but at least he had been put to his defense, he had come lamely out, and the attraction of his personal danger was now publicly plucked away from him. My lord, in his heart of hearts, now knew his favorite to be a government spy; sind Mrs. Henry (however she explained the tale) was notably cold in her behavior to the discredited hero of romance. Thus in the best fabric of duplicity, there is some weak point, if you can strike it, which will loosen all; and if, by this fortunate stroke, we had not shaken the idol, who can say how it might have gone with us at the caISastrophe? (to be continued.) Wichita, Kan., has a cooking ClOb whose members are taught seven ways to makea potato salad and ten ways to make custard.