"Nae doot, nae doot, sae"s seen on your playin," replied the latter.
"How do you fend wi" your fiddle? Do ye mak onything o" a guid leevin o"t?"
"No that ill ava," said the stranger. "I play for the auld leddy at the castle--Castle Gowan, ye ken; indeed, I"m sometimes ca"d the leddy"s fiddler, and she"s uncommon guid to me. I neither want bite nor sowp when I gang there."
"That"s sae far weel," replied Willie. "She"s a guid judge o" music that Leddy Gowan, as I hear them say; and I"m tauld her son, Sir John, plays a capital bow."
"No amiss, I believe," said the stranger; "but the leddy, as ye say, is an excellent judge o" music, although whiles, I think, rather owre fond o"t, for she maks me play for hours thegither, when I wad far rather be wi" Tam Yule, her butler, a sonsy, guid-natured chiel, that"s no sweer o" the cap. But, speaking o" that, I"ll tell ye what, frien," he continued, "if ye"ll come up to Castle Gowan ony day, I"ll be blithe to see you, for I"m there at least ance every day, and I"ll warrant ye--for ye see I can use every liberty there--in a guid het dinner, an" a jug o"
better toddy to wash it owre wi"."
"A bargain be"t," quoth Willie; "will the morn do?"
"Perfectly," said the stranger; "the sooner the better."
This settled, Willie proceeded to a subject which had been for some time near his heart, but which he felt some delicacy in broaching. This feeling, however, having gradually given way before the influence of the toddy, and of his friend"s frank and jovial manner, he at length ventured, though cautiously, to step on the ice.
"That"s an uncommon guid instrument o" yours, frien," he said.
"Very good," replied his companion, briefly.
"But ye"ll hae mair than that ane, nae doot?" rejoined the other.
"I hae ither twa."
"In that case," said Willie, "maybe ye wad hae nae objection to pairt wi" that ane, an the price offered ye wur a" the mair temptin. I"ll gie ye the saxteen shillins I hae won the nicht, an" my fiddle, for"t."
"Thank ye, frien, thank ye for your offer," replied the stranger; "but I daurna accept o"t, though I war willin. The fiddle was gien to me by Leddy Gowan, and I daurna pairt wi"t. She wad miss"t, and then there wad be the deevil to pay."
"Oh, an that"s the case," said Willie, "I"ll say nae mair aboot it; but it"s a first-rate fiddle--sae guid a ane, that it micht amaist play the lane o"t."
It being now very late, or rather early, and the toddy jug emptied, the blind fiddler and his friend parted, on the understanding, however, that the former would visit the latter at the castle (whither he was now going, he said, to seek a night"s quarters) on the following day.
True to his appointment, Willie appeared next day at Gowan House, or Castle Gowan, as it was more generally called, and inquired for "the fiddler." His inquiry was met with great civility and politeness by the footman who opened the door. He was told "the fiddler" was there, and desired to walk in. Obeying the invitation, Willie, conducted by the footman, entered a s.p.a.cious apartment, where he was soon afterwards entertained with a sumptuous dinner, in which his friend the fiddler joined him.
"My word neighbour," said Willie, after having made a hearty meal of the good things that were set before him, and having drank in proportion, "but ye"re in n.o.ble quarters here. This is truly fiddlin to some purpose, an" treatin the art as it ought to be treated in the persons o"
its professors. But what," he added, "if Sir John should come in upon us? He wadna like maybe a"thegither to see a stranger wi" ye?"
"Deil a bodle I care for Sir John, Willie! He"s but a wild harum-scarum throughither chap at the best, an" no muckle to be heeded."
"Ay, he"s fond o" a frolic, they tell me," quoth Willie; "an" there"s a heap o" gay queer anes laid to his charge, whether they be true or no; but his heart"s in the richt place, I"m thinkin, for a" that. I"ve heard o" mony guid turns he has dune."
"Ou, he"s no a bad chiel, on the whole, I daresay," replied Willie"s companion. "His bark"s waur than his bite--an" that"s mair than can be said o" a rat-trap at ony rate."
It was about this period, and then for the first time, that certain strange and vague suspicions suddenly entered Willie"s mind regarding his entertainer. He had remarked that the latter gave his orders with an air of authority which he thought scarcely becoming in one who occupied the humble situation of "the lady"s fiddler;" but, singular as this appeared to him, the alacrity and silence with which these orders were obeyed, was to poor Willie still more unaccountable. He said nothing, however; but much did he marvel at the singular good fortune of his brother-in-trade. He had never known a fiddler so quartered before; and, lost in admiration of his friend"s felicity, he was about again to express his ideas on the subject, when a servant in splendid livery entered the room, and, bowing respectfully, said, "The carriage waits you, Sir John."
"I will be with you presently, Thomas," replied who? inquires the reader.
Why, Willie"s companion!
What! is he then Sir John Gowan--he, the fiddler at the penny-wedding, Sir John Gowan, of Castle Gowan, the most extensive proprietor and the wealthiest man in the county?
The same, and no other, good reader, we a.s.sure thee.
A great lover of frolic, as he himself said, was Sir John; and this was one of the pranks in which he delighted. He was an enthusiastic fiddler; and as has been already shown, performed with singular skill on that most difficult, but most delightful, of all musical instruments.
We will not attempt to describe poor Willie"s amazement and confusion, when this singular fact became known to him; for they are indescribable, and therefore better left to the reader"s imagination. On recovering a little from his surprise, however, he endeavoured to express his astonishment in such broken sentences as these--"Wha in earth wad hae ever dreamed o"t? Rosit an" fiddle-strings!--this beats a". Faith, an"
I"ve been fairly taen in--clean done for. A knight o" the shire to play at a penny-waddin wi" blin Willie Hodge, the fiddler! The like was ne"er heard tell o"."
As it is unnecessary, and would certainly be tedious, to protract the scene at this particular point in our story, we cut it short by saying, that Sir John presented Willie with the fiddle he had so much coveted, and which he had vainly endeavoured to purchase; that he then told down to him the half of the proceeds of the previous night"s labours which he had pocketed, added a handsome _douceur_ from his own purse, and finally dismissed him with a pressing and cordial invitation to visit the castle as often as it suited his inclination and conveniency.
Having arrived at this landing-place in our tale, we pause to explain one or two things, which is necessary for the full elucidation of the sequel. With regard to Sir John Gowan himself, there is little to add to what has been already said of him; for, brief though these notices of him are, they contain nearly all that the reader need care to know about him. He was addicted to such pranks as that just recorded; but this, if it was a defect in his character, was the only one. For the rest, he was an excellent young man--kind, generous, and affable, of the strictest honour, and the most upright principles. He was, moreover, an exceedingly handsome man, and highly accomplished. At this period, he was unmarried, and lived with his mother, Lady Gowan, to whom he was most affectionately attached. Sir John had, at one time, mingled a good deal with the fashionable society of the metropolis; but soon became disgusted with the heartlessness of those who composed it, and with the frivolity of their pursuits; and in this frame of mind he came to the resolution of retiring to his estate, and of giving himself up entirely to the quiet enjoyments of a country life, and the pleasing duties which his position as a large landed proprietor entailed upon him.
Simple in all his tastes and habits, Sir John had been unable to discover, in any of the manufactured beauties to whom he had been, from time to time, introduced while he resided in London, one to whom he could think of intrusting his happiness. The wife he desired was one fresh from the hand of nature, not one remodelled by the square and rule of art; and such a one he thought he had found during his adventure of the previous night.
Bringing this digression, which we may liken to an interlude, to a close, we again draw up the curtain, and open the second act of our little drama with an exhibition of the residence of Mr Harrison at Todshaw.
The house or farm-steading of this worthy person was of the very best description of such establishments. The building itself was substantial, nay, even handsome, while the excellent garden which was attached to it, and all the other accessories and appurtenances with which it was surrounded, indicated wealth and comfort. Its situation was on the summit of a gentle eminence that sloped down in front to a noisy little rivulet, that careered along through a narrow rugged glen overhanging with hazel, till it came nearly opposite the house, where it wound through an open plat of green sward, and shortly after again plunged into another little romantic ravine similar to the one it had left.
The approach to Mr Harrison"s house lay along this little rivulet, and was commanded, for a considerable distance, by the view from the former--a circ.u.mstance which enabled Jeanie Harrison to descry, one fine summer afternoon, two or three days after the occurrence of the events just related, the approach of the fiddler with whom she had danced at the wedding. On making this discovery, Jeanie ran to announce the joyful intelligence to all the other members of the family, and the prospect of a merry dancing afternoon opened on the delighted eyes of its younger branches.
When the fiddler--with whose ident.i.ty the reader is now as well acquainted as we are--had reached the bottom of the ascent that led to the house, Jeanie, with excessive joy beaming in her bright and expressive eye, and her cheek glowing with the roseate hues of health, rushed down to meet him, and to welcome him to Todshaw.
"Thank ye, my bonny la.s.sie--thank ye," replied the disguised baronet, expressing himself in character, and speaking the language of his a.s.sumed station. "Are ye ready for anither dance?"
"Oh, a score o" them--a thousand o" them," said the lively girl.
"But will your faither, think ye, hae nae objections to my comin?"
inquired the fiddler.
"Nane in the warld. My faither is nane o" your sour carles that wad deny ither folk the pleasures they canna enjoy themsels. He likes to see a"body happy around him--every ane his ain way."
"An" your mother?"
"Jist the same. Ye"ll find her waur to fiddle doun than ony o" us.
She"ll dance as lang"s a string hauds o"t."
"Then, I may be quite at my ease," rejoined Sir John.
"Quite so," replied Jeanie--and she slipped half-a-crown into his hand--"and there"s your arles; but ye"ll be minded better ere ye leave us."
"My word, no an ill beginnin," quoth the musician, looking with well-affected delight at the coin, and afterwards putting it carefully into his pocket. "But ye could hae gien me a far mair acceptable arles than half-a-crown," he added, "and no been a penny the poorer either."
"What"s that?" said Jeanie, laughing and blushing at the same time, and more than half guessing, from the looks of the _pawky_ fiddler, what was meant.
"Why, my bonny leddie," he replied, "jist a kiss o" that pretty little mou o" yours."
"Oh, ye gowk!" exclaimed Jeanie, with a roguish glance at her humble gallant; for, disguised as he was, he was not able to conceal a very handsome person, nor the very agreeable expression of a set of remarkably fine features--qualities which did not escape the vigilance of the female eye that was now scanning their possessor. Nor would we say that these qualities were viewed with total indifference, or without producing their effect, even although they did belong to a fiddler.
"Oh, ye gowk!" said Jeanie; "wha ever heard o" a fiddler preferring a kiss to half-a-crown?"