The Heart of Mid-Lothian, Volume 2. Вальтер СкоттЧитать онлайн книгу.
for it – and I have sinned for it – and I will have it, – or there is neither justice in heaven or in hell!"
Levitt had by this time lighted a pipe, and was listening with great composure to the frantic and vindictive ravings of the old hag. He was too much, hardened by his course of life to be shocked with them – too indifferent, and probably too stupid, to catch any part of their animation or energy. "But, mother," he said, after a pause, "still I say, that if revenge is your wish, you should take it on the young fellow himself."
"I wish I could," she said, drawing in her breath, with the eagerness of a thirsty person while mimicking the action of drinking – "I wish I could – but no – I cannot – I cannot."
"And why not? – You would think little of peaching and hanging him for this Scotch affair. – Rat me, one might have milled the Bank of England, and less noise about it."
"I have nursed him at this withered breast," answered the old woman, folding her hands on her bosom, as if pressing an infant to it, "and, though he has proved an adder to me – though he has been the destruction of me and mine – though he has made me company for the devil, if there be a devil, and food for hell, if there be such a place, yet I cannot take his life. – No, I cannot," she continued, with an appearance of rage against herself; "I have thought of it – I have tried it – but, Francis Levitt, I canna gang through wi't – Na, na – he was the first bairn I ever nurst – ill I had been – and man can never ken what woman feels for the bairn she has held first to her bosom!"
"To be sure," said Levitt, "we have no experience; but, mother, they say you ha'n't been so kind to other bairns, as you call them, that have come in your way. – Nay, d – n me, never lay your hand on the whittle, for I am captain and leader here, and I will have no rebellion."
The hag, whose first motion had been, upon hearing the question, to grasp the haft of a large knife, now unclosed her hand, stole it away from the weapon, and suffered it to fall by her side, while she proceeded with a sort of smile – "Bairns! ye are joking, lad – wha wad touch bairns? Madge, puir thing, had a misfortune wi' ane – and the t'other" – Here her voice sunk so much, that Jeanie, though anxiously upon the watch, could not catch a word she said, until she raised her tone at the conclusion of the sentence – "So Madge, in her daffin', threw it into the Nor'-lock, I trow."
Madge, whose slumbers, like those of most who labour under mental malady, had been short, and were easily broken, now made herself heard from her place of repose.
"Indeed, mother, that's a great lie, for I did nae sic thing."
"Hush, thou hellicat devil," said her mother – "By Heaven! the other wench will be waking too."
"That may be dangerous," said Frank; and he rose, and followed Meg Murdockson across the floor.
"Rise," said the hag to her daughter, "or I sall drive the knife between the planks into the Bedlam back of thee!"
Apparently she at the same time seconded her threat by pricking her with the point of a knife, for Madge, with a faint scream, changed her place, and the door opened.
The old woman held a candle in one hand, and a knife in the other. Levitt appeared behind her, whether with a view of preventing, or assisting her in any violence she might meditate, could not be well guessed. Jeanie's presence of mind stood her friend in this dreadful crisis. She had resolution enough to maintain the attitude and manner of one who sleeps profoundly, and to regulate even her breathing, notwithstanding the agitation of instant terror, so as to correspond with her attitude.
The old woman passed the light across her eyes; and although Jeanie's fears were so powerfully awakened by this movement, that she often declared afterwards, that she thought she saw the figures of her destined murderers through her closed eyelids, she had still the resolution to maintain the feint, on which her safety perhaps depended.
Levitt looked at her with fixed attention; he then turned the old woman out of the place, and followed her himself. Having regained the outward apartment, and seated themselves, Jeanie heard the highwayman say, to her no small relief, "She's as fast as if she were in Bedfordshire. – Now, old Meg, d – n me if I can understand a glim of this story of yours, or what good it will do you to hang the one wench and torment the other; but, rat me, I will be true to my friend, and serve ye the way ye like it. I see it will be a bad job; but I do think I could get her down to Surfleet on the Wash, and so on board Tom Moonshine's neat lugger, and keep her out of the way three or four weeks, if that will please ye – But d – n me if any one shall harm her, unless they have a mind to choke on a brace of blue plums. – It's a cruel, bad job, and I wish you and it, Meg, were both at the devil."
"Never mind, hinny Levitt," said the old woman; "you are a ruffler, and will have a' your ain gate – She shanna gang to heaven an hour sooner for me; I carena whether she live or die – it's her sister – ay, her sister!"
"Well, we'll say no more about it; I hear Tom coming in. We'll couch a hogshead,12 and so better had you."
They retired to repose accordingly, and all was silent in this asylum of iniquity.
Jeanie lay for a long time awake. At break of day she heard the two ruffians leave the barn, after whispering to the old woman for some time. The sense that she was now guarded by persons of her own sex gave her some confidence, and irresistible lassitude at length threw her into slumber.
When the captive awakened, the sun was high in heaven, and the morning considerably advanced. Madge Wildfire was still in the hovel which had served them for the night, and immediately bid her good-morning, with her usual air of insane glee. "And dye ken, lass," said Madge, "there's queer things chanced since ye hae been in the land of Nod. The constables hae been here, woman, and they met wi' my minnie at the door, and they whirl'd her awa to the Justice's about the man's wheat. – Dear! thae English churls think as muckle about a blade of wheat or grass, as a Scotch laird does about his maukins and his muir-poots. Now, lass, if ye like, we'll play them a fine jink; we will awa out and take a walk – they will mak unco wark when they miss us, but we can easily be back by dinner time, or before dark night at ony rate, and it will be some frolic and fresh air. – But maybe ye wad like to take some breakfast, and then lie down again? I ken by mysell, there's whiles I can sit wi' my head in my hand the haill day, and havena a word to cast at a dog – and other whiles, that I canna sit still a moment. That's when the folk think me warst, but I am aye canny eneugh – ye needna be feared to walk wi' me."
Had Madge Wildfire been the most raging lunatic, instead of possessing a doubtful, uncertain, and twilight sort of rationality, varying, probably, from the influence of the most trivial causes, Jeanie would hardly have objected to leave a place of captivity, where she had so much to apprehend. She eagerly assured Madge that she had no occasion for further sleep, no desire whatever for eating; and, hoping internally that she was not guilty of sin in doing so, she flattered her keeper's crazy humour for walking in the woods.
"It's no a'thegither for that neither," said poor Madge; "but I am judging ye will wun the better out o' thae folk's hands; no that they are a'thegither bad folk neither, but they have queer ways wi' them, and I whiles dinna think it has ever been weel wi' my mother and me since we kept sic-like company."
With the haste, the joy, the fear, and the hope of a liberated captive, Jeanie snatched up her little bundle, followed Madge into the free air, and eagerly looked round her for a human habitation; but none was to be seen. The ground was partly cultivated, and partly left in its natural state, according as the fancy of the slovenly agriculturists had decided. In its natural state it was waste, in some places covered with dwarf trees and bushes, in others swamp, and elsewhere firm and dry downs or pasture grounds.
Jeanie's active mind next led her to conjecture which way the high-road lay, whence she had been forced. If she regained that public road, she imagined she must soon meet some person, or arrive at some house, where she might tell her story, and request protection. But, after a glance around her, she saw with regret that she had no means whatever of directing her course with any degree of certainty, and that she was still in dependence upon her crazy companion. "Shall we not walk upon the high-road?" said she to Madge, in such a tone as a nurse uses to coax a child. "It's brawer walking
Lay ourselves down to sleep.