Old Mortality (Unabridged) - Walter Scott

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he wadna fight ower the boots in blude for your leddyship and Miss Edith, and the auld Tower — ay suld he, and I would rather see him buried beneath it, than he suld gie way — but thir ridings and wappenschawings, my leddy, I hae nae broo o’ them ava. I can find nae warrant for them whatsoever.”

      “Nae warrant for them?” cried the high-born dame. “Do ye na ken, woman, that ye are bound to be liege vassals in all hunting, hosting, watching, and warding, when lawfully summoned thereto in my name? Your service is not gratuitous. I trow ye hae land for it.— Ye’re kindly tenants; hae a cot-house, a kale-yard, and a cow’s grass on the common.— Few hae been brought farther ben, and ye grudge your son suld gie me a day’s service in the field?”

      “Na, my leddy — na, my leddy, it’s no that,” exclaimed Mause, greatly embarrassed, “but ane canna serve twa maisters; and, if the truth maun e’en come out, there’s Ane abune whase commands I maun obey before your leddyship’s. I am sure I would put neither king’s nor kaisar’s, nor ony earthly creature’s, afore them.”

      “How mean ye by that, ye auld fule woman?— D’ye think that I order ony thing against conscience?”

      “I dinna pretend to say that, my leddy, in regard o’ your leddyship’s conscience, which has been brought up, as it were, wi’ prelatic principles; but ilka ane maun walk by the light o’ their ain; and mine,” said Mause, waxing bolder as the conference became animated, “tells me that I suld leave a’— cot, kale-yard, and cow’s grass — and suffer a’, rather than that I or mine should put on harness in an unlawfu’ cause,”

      “Unlawfu’!” exclaimed her mistress; “the cause to which you are called by your lawful leddy and mistress — by the command of the king — by the writ of the privy council — by the order of the lordlieutenant — by the warrant of the sheriff?”

      “Ay, my leddy, nae doubt; but no to displeasure your leddyship, ye’ll mind that there was ance a king in Scripture they ca’d Nebuchadnezzar, and he set up a golden image in the plain o’ Dura, as it might be in the haugh yonder by the water-side, where the array were warned to meet yesterday; and the princes, and the governors, and the captains, and the judges themsells, forby the treasurers, the counsellors, and the sheriffs, were warned to the dedication thereof, and commanded to fall down and worship at the sound of the cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, and all kinds of music.”

      “And what o’ a’ this, ye fule wife? Or what had Nebuchadnezzar to do with the wappen-schaw of the Upper Ward of Clydesdale?”

      “Only just thus far, my leddy,” continued Mause, firmly, “that prelacy is like the great golden image in the plain of Dura, and that as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, were borne out in refusing to bow down and worship, so neither shall Cuddy Headrigg, your leddyship’s poor pleughman, at least wi’ his auld mither’s consent, make murgeons or Jenny-flections, as they ca’ them, in the house of the prelates and curates, nor gird him wi’ armour to fight in their cause, either at the sound of kettle-drums, organs, bagpipes, or ony other kind of music whatever.”

      Lady Margaret Bellenden heard this exposition of Scripture with the greatest possible indignation, as well as surprise.

      “I see which way the wind blaws,” she exclaimed, after a pause of astonishment; “the evil spirit of the year sixteen hundred and forty-twa is at wark again as merrily as ever, and ilka auld wife in the chimley-neuck will be for knapping doctrine wi’ doctors o’ divinity and the godly fathers o’ the church.”

      “Aweel, my leddy,” said Mause, “I was born here, and thought to die where my father died; and your leddyship has been a kind mistress, I’ll ne’er deny that, and I’se ne’er cease to pray for you, and for Miss Edith, and that ye may be brought to see the error of your ways. But still”—“The error of my ways!” interrupted Lady Margaret, much incensed —“The error of my ways, ye uncivil woman?”

      “Ou, ay, my leddy, we are blinded that live in this valley of tears and darkness, and hae a’ ower mony errors, grit folks as weel as sma’— but, as I said, my puir bennison will rest wi’ you and yours wherever I am. I will be wae to hear o’ your affliction, and blithe to hear o’ your prosperity, temporal and spiritual. But I canna prefer the commands of an earthly mistress to those of a heavenly master, and sae I am e’en ready to suffer for righteousness’ sake.”

      “It is very well,” said Lady Margaret, turning her back in great displeasure; “ye ken my will, Mause, in the matter. I’ll hae nae whiggery in the barony of Tillietudlem — the next thing wad be to set up a conventicle in my very withdrawing room.”

      Having said this, she departed, with an air of great dignity; and Mause, giving way to feelings which she had suppressed during the interview,— for she, like her mistress, had her own feeling of pride,— now lifted up her voice and wept aloud.

      Cuddie, whose malady, real or pretended, still detained him in bed, lay perdu during all this conference, snugly ensconced within his boarded bedstead, and terrified to death lest Lady Margaret, whom he held in hereditary reverence, should have detected his presence, and bestowed on him personally some of those bitter reproaches with which she loaded his mother. But as soon as he thought her ladyship fairly out of hearing, he bounced up in his nest.

      “The foul fa’ ye, that I suld say sae,” he cried out to his mother, “for a lang-tongued clavering wife, as my father, honest man, aye ca’d ye! Couldna ye let the leddy alane wi’ your whiggery? And I was e’en as great a gomeral to let ye persuade me to lie up here amang the blankets like a hurcheon, instead o’ gaun to the wappen-schaw like other folk. Odd, but I put a trick on ye, for I was out at the window-bole when your auld back was turned, and awa down by to hae a baff at the popinjay, and I shot within twa on’t. I cheated the leddy for your clavers, but I wasna gaun to cheat my joe. But she may marry whae she likes now, for I’m clean dung ower. This is a waur dirdum than we got frae Mr Gudyill when ye garr’d me refuse to eat the plum-porridge on Yule-eve, as if it were ony matter to God or man whether a pleughman had suppit on minched pies or sour sowens.”

      “O, whisht, my bairn, whisht,” replied Mause; “thou kensna about thae things — It was forbidden meat, things dedicated to set days and holidays, which are inhibited to the use of protestant Christians.”

      “And now,” continued her son, “ye hae brought the leddy hersell on our hands!— An I could but hae gotten some decent claes in, I wad hae spanged out o’ bed, and tauld her I wad ride where she liked, night or day, an she wad but leave us the free house and the yaird, that grew the best early kale in the haill country, and the cow’s grass.”

      “O wow! my winsome bairn, Cuddie,” continued the old dame, “murmur not at the dispensation; never grudge suffering

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