mair of that anon.
Dougal MacCallum, poor body, neither grat2 nor graned, but gaed about the house looking like a corpse, but directing, as was his duty, a' the order of the grand funeral. Now, Dougal looked aye waur and waur3 when night was coming, and was aye the last to gang to his bed, whilk was in a little round just opposite the chamber of dais,4 whilk his master occupied while he was
6. Rents. England and Scotland and by this means voting 7. I.e., he bowed. itself out of existence. Like many of his peers, Sir 8. Cup. John will take a cut ('rug') of the 'compensations' 9. Made. offered the parliamentarians as a bribe. 1. Sir John is eventually to hold a seat in the Scots 2. Wept. Parliament that will make history in 1707 by pass-3. Always looked worse and worse.
ing the Act of Union that joins the kingdoms of 4. Best bedroom.
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WANDERING WILLIE'S TALE / 415
living, and where he now lay in state, as they caa'd it, weel-a-day! The night before the funeral, Dougal could keep his awn counsel5 nae langer; he came doun with his proud spirit, and fairly asked auld Hutcheon to sit in his room with him for an hour. When they were in the round, Dougal took ae tass of brandy to himsell, and gave another to Hutcheon, and wished him all health and lang life, and said that, for himsell, he wasna lang for this world; for that, every night since Sir Robert's death, his silver call had sounded from the state chamber, just as it used to do at nights in his lifetime, to call Dougal to help to turn him in his bed. Dougal said, that being alone with the dead on that floor of the tower (for naebody cared to wake Sir Robert Redgauntlet like another corpse), he had never daured to answer the call, but that now his conscience checked him for neglecting his duty; for, 'though death breaks service,' said MacCallum, 'it shall never break my service to Sir Robert; and I will answer his next whistle, so be you will stand by me, Hutcheon.'
Hutcheon had nae will to the wark, but he had stood by Dougal in battle and broil, and he wad not fail him at this pinch; so down the carles6 sat ower a stoup7 of brandy, and Hutcheon, who was something of a clerk, would have read a chapter of the Rible; but Dougal would hear naething but a blaud8 of Davie Lindsay, whilk was the waur preparation.
When midnight came, and the house was quiet as the grave, sure aneugh the silver whistle sounded as sharp and shrill as if Sir Robert was blowing it, and up gat the twa auld serving-men, and tottered into the room where the dead man lay. Hutcheon saw aneugh at the first glance; for there were torches in the room, which showed him the foul fiend in his ain shape, sitting on the Laird's coffin! Over he cowped9 as if he had been dead. He could not tell how lang he lay in a trance at the door, but when he gathered himself, he cried on his neighbour, and getting nae answer, raised the house, when Dougal was found lying dead within twa steps of the bed where his master's coffin was placed. As for the whistle, it was gaen anes and aye;1 but mony a time was it heard at the top of the house on the bartizan,2 and amang the auld chimneys and turrets, where the howlets have their nests. Sir John hushed the matter up, and the funeral passed over without mair bogle-wark.3
But when a' was ower, and the Laird was beginning to settle his affairs, every tenant was called up for his arrears, and my gudesire for the full sum that stood against him in the rental-book. Weel, away he trots to the Castle, to tell his story, and there he is introduced to Sir John, sitting in his father's chair, in deep mourning, with weepers and hanging cravat,4 and a small walking rapier by his side, instead of the auld broadsword that had a hundredweight of steel about it, what with blade, chape, and basket-hilt. I have heard their communing so often tauld ower, that I almost think I was there mysell, though I couldna be born at the time. . . .
'I wuss ye joy, sir, of the head seat, and the white loaf, and the braid lairdship. 5 Your father was a kind man to friends and followers; muckle grace to
5. Keep quiet. 4. Mourning dress included hat bands of white 6. Fellows. linen ('weepers') and a 'hanging cravat' instead of 7. Cup. the usual shirt frills. 8. A selection: Lindsay was a 16th-century satiri-5. A ceremonious speech wishing Sir John well in cal poet. his new position as head of a great family: white
9. Tilted. bread ('white loaf') is mentioned as a delicacy only 1. Once and always?i.e., forever. the rich could afford; a 'braid lairdship' is a large 2. Parapet atop a castle. estate. 3. Ghostly occurrences.
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41 6 / SIR WALTER SCOTT
you, Sir John, to fill his shoon?his boots, I suld say, for he seldom wore shoon, unless it were muils6 when he had the gout.'
'Ay, Steenie,' quoth the Laird, sighing deeply, and putting his napkin to his een, 'his was a sudden call, and he will be missed in the country; no time to set his house in order?weel prepared Godward, no doubt, which is the root of the matter?but left us behind a tangled hesp to wind,7 Steenie.?Hem! hem! We maun go to business, Steenie; much to do, and little time to do it
?
in. Here he opened the fatal volume. I have heard of a thing they call Doomsday-book8?I am clear it has been a rental of back-ganging9 tenants.
'Stephen,' said Sir John, still in the same soft, sleekit tone of a voice? 'Stephen Stevenson, or Steenson, ye are down here for a year's rent behind the hand?due at last term.'
Stephen. 'Please your honour, Sir John, I paid it to your father.'
Sir John. 'Ye took a receipt then, doubtless, Stephen; and can produce it?'
Stephen. 'Indeed I hadna time, an it like your honour; for nae sooner had I set doun the siller, and just as his honour Sir Robert, that's gaen, drew it till him to count it, and write out the receipt, he was ta'en wi' the pains that removed him.'
'That was unlucky,' said Sir John, after a pause. 'But ye maybe paid it in the presence of somebody. I want but a talis qualis evidence,1 Stephen. I would go ower strictly to work with no poor man.'
Stephen. 'Troth, Sir John, there was naebody in the room but Dougal MacCallum, the butler. But, as your honour kens, he has e'en followed his auld master.'
'Very unlucky again, Stephen,' said Sir John, without altering his voice a single note. 'The man to whom ye paid the money is dead?and the man who witnessed your payment is dead too?and the siller, which should have been to the fore, is neither seen nor heard tell of in the repositories. How am I to believe a' this?'
