The Billow and the Rock.

by Harriet Martineau.

CHAPTER ONE.

LORD AND LADY Ca.r.s.e.

Scotland was a strange and uncomfortable country to live in a hundred years ago. Strange beyond measure its state of society appears to us when we consider, not only that it was called a Christian country, but that the people had shown that they really did care very much for their religion, and were bent upon worshipping G.o.d according to their conscience and true belief. Whilst earnest in their religion, their state of society was yet very wicked: a thing which usually happens when a whole people are pa.s.sing from one way of living and being governed to another. Scotland had not long been united with England. While the wisest of the nation saw that the only hope for the country was in being governed by the same king and parliament as the English, many of the most powerful men wished not to be governed at all, but to be altogether despotic over their dependents and neighbours, and to have their _own_ way in everything. These lords and gentlemen did such violent things as are never heard of now in civilised countries; and when their inferiors had any strong desire or pa.s.sion, they followed the example of the great men, so that travelling was dangerous; citizens did not feel themselves safe in their own houses if they had reason to believe they had enemies; few had any trust in the protection of the law; and stories of fighting and murder were familiar to children living in the heart of cities.

Children, however, had less liberty then than in our time. The more self-will there was in grown people, the more strictly were the children kept in order, not only because the uppermost idea of everyone in authority was that he would be obeyed, but because it would not do to let little people see the mischief that was going on abroad. So, while boys had their hair powdered, and wore long coats and waistcoats, and little knee-breeches, and girls were laced tight in stays all stiff with whalebone, they were trained to manners more formal than are ever seen now.

One autumn afternoon a party was expected at the house of Lord Ca.r.s.e, in Edinburgh; a handsome house in a very odd situation, according to our modern notions. It was at the bottom of a narrow lane of houses--that sort of lane called a Wynd in Scotch cities. It had a court-yard in front. It was necessary to have a court-yard to a good house in a street too narrow for carriages. Visitors must come in sedan chairs and there must be some place, aside from the street, where the chairs and chairmen could wait for the guests. This old fashioned house had sitting-rooms on the ground floor, and on the sills of the windows were flower-pots, in which, on this occasion, some asters and other autumn flowers were growing.

Within the largest sitting-room was collected a formal group, awaiting the arrival of visitors. Lord Ca.r.s.e's sister, Lady Rachel Ballino, was there, surrounded by her nephews and nieces. As they came in, one after another, dressed for company, and made their bow or curtsey at the door, their aunt gave them permission to sit down till the arrival of the first guest, after which time it would be a matter of course that they should stand. Miss Janet and her brothers sat down on their low stools, at some distance from each other; but little Miss Flora had no notion of submitting to their restraints at her early age, and she scrambled up the window-seat to look abroad as far as she could, which was through the high iron gates to the tall houses on the other side the Wynd.

Lady Rachel saw the boys and Janet looking at each other with smiles, and this turned her attention to the child in the window, who was nodding her little curly head very energetically to somebody outside.

"Come down, Flora," said her aunt.

But Flora was too busy, nodding, to hear that she was spoken to.

"Flora, come down. Why are you nodding in that way?"

"Lady nods," said Flora.

Lady Rachel rose deliberately from her seat, and approached the window, turning pale as she went. After a single glance in the court-yard, she sank on a chair, and desired her nephew Orme to ring the bell twice.

Orme who saw that something was the matter, rang so vigorously as to bring the butler in immediately.

"John, you see?" said the pale lips of Lady Rachel, while she pointed, with a trembling finger, to the court-yard.

"Yes, my lady; the doors are fastened."

"And Lord Ca.r.s.e not home yet?"

"No, my lady. I think perhaps he is somewhere near, and cannot get home."

John looked irresolutely towards the child in the window. Once more Flora was desired to come down, and once more she only replied, "Lady nods at me."

Janet was going towards the window to enforce her aunt's orders, but she was desired to keep her seat, and John quickly took up Miss Flora in his arms and set her down at her aunt's knee. The child cried and struggled, said she would see the lady, and must infallibly have been dismissed to the nursery, but her eye was caught, and her mind presently engaged by Lady Rachel's painted fan, on which there was a burning mountain, and a blue sea, and a shepherdess and her lamb--all very gay.

Flora was allowed to have the fan in her own hands--a very rare favour.

But presently she left off telling her aunt what she saw upon it, dropped it, and clapped her hands, saying, as she looked at the window, "Lady nods at me."

"It is mamma!" cried the elder ones, starting to their feet, as the lady thrust her face through the flowers, and close to the window-pane.

"Go to the nursery, children," said Lady Rachel, making an effort to rise. "I will send for you presently." The elder ones appeared glad to escape, and they carried with them the struggling Flora.

Lady Rachel threw up the sash, crossed her arms, and said, in the most formal manner, "What do you want, Lady Ca.r.s.e?"

"I want my children."

"You cannot have them, as you well know. It is too late. I pity you; but it is too late."

"I will see my children. I will come home and live. I will make that tyrant repent setting up anyone in my place at home. I have it in my power to ruin him. I--"

"Abstain from threats," said Lady Rachel, shutting the window, and fastening the sash.

Lady Ca.r.s.e doubled her fist, as if about to dash in a pane; but the iron gates behind her creaked on their hinges, and she turned her head. A chair was entering, on each side of which walked a footman, whose livery Lady Ca.r.s.e well knew. Her handsome face, red before, was now more flushed. She put her mouth close to the window, and said, "If it had been anybody but Lovat you would not have been rid of me this evening.

I would have stood among the chairmen till midnight for the chance of getting in. Be sure I shall to-morrow, or some day. But now I am off."

She darted past the chair, her face turned away, just as Lord Lovat was issuing from it.

"Ho! ho!" cried he, in a loud and mocking tone. "Ho, there! my Lady Ca.r.s.e! A word with you!" But she ran up the Wynd as fast as she could go.

"You should not look so white upon it," Lord Lovat observed to Lady Rachel, as soon as the door was shut. "Why do you let her see her power over you?"

"G.o.d knows!" replied Lady Rachel. "But it is not her threats alone that make us nervous. It is the being incessantly subject--"

She cleared her throat; but she could not go on.

Lord Lovat swore that he would not submit to be tormented by a virago in this way. If Lady Ca.r.s.e were his wife--

"Well! what would you do?" asked Lady Rachel.

"I would get rid of her. I tell your brother so. I would get rid of her in one way, if she threatened to get rid of me in another. She may have learned from her father how to put her enemies out of the way."

Lady Rachel grew paler than ever. Lord Lovat went on.

"Her father carried pistols in the streets of Edinburgh and so may she.

Her father was hanged for it; and it is my belief that she would have no objection to that end if she could have her revenge first. Ay! you wonder why I say such things to you, frightened as you are already. I do it that you may not infuse any weakness into your brother's purposes, if he should think fit to rid the town of her one of these days. Come, come! I did not say rid the world of her."

"Merciful Heaven! no!"

"There are places, you know, where troublesome people have no means of doing mischief. I could point out such a place presently, if I were asked--a place where she might be as safe as under lock and key, without the trouble and risk of confining her, and having to consider the law."

"You do not mean a prison, then?"

"No. She has not yet done anything to make it easy to put her in prison for life; and anything short of that would be more risk than comfort.

If Ca.r.s.e gives me authority, I will dispose of her where she can be free to rove like the wild goats. If she should take a fancy to jump down a precipice, or drown herself, that is her own affair, you know."

The door opened for the entrance of company. Lord Lovat whispered once more, "Only this. If Ca.r.s.e thinks of giving the case into my hands, don't you oppose it. I will not touch her life, I swear to you."

Lady Rachel knew, like the rest of the world, that Lord Lovat's swearing went for no more than any of his other engagements. Though she would have given all she had in the world to be freed from the terror of Lady Ca.r.s.e, and to hope that the children might forget their unhappy mother, she shrank from the idea of putting any person into the hands of the hard, and mocking, and plotting Lord Lovat. As for the legality of doing anything at all to Lady Ca.r.s.e while she did not herself break the law, that was a consideration which no more occurred to Lady Rachel than to the violent Lord Lovat himself.

Lady Rachel was exerting herself to entertain her guests, and had sent for the children, when, to her inexplicable relief, the butler brought her the news that Lord Ca.r.s.e and his son Willie were home, and would appear with all speed. They had been detained two hours in a tavern, John said.

"In a tavern?"

"Yes, my lady. Could not get out. Did not wish to collect more people, to cause a mob. It is all right now, my lady."