Glossin; I am apt to be very absent.--May I ask if the castle has been long in your family?""It was built, I believe, long ago, by a family called MacDingawaie," answered Glossin; suppressing for obvious reasons the more familiar sound of Bertram, which might have awakened the recollections which he was anxious to lull to rest, and slurring with an evasive answer the question concerning the endurance of his own possession.
"And how do you read the half-defaced motto, sir," said Bertram, "which is upon that scroll above the entablature with the arms?""I--I--I really do not exactly know," replied Glossin.
"I should be apt to make it out, 'Our Right makes our Might.' ""I believe it is something of that kind," said Glossin.
"May I ask, sir," said the stranger, "if it is your family motto?""N-n-no--no--not ours. That is, I believe, the motto of the former people--mine is--mine is--in fact I have had some correspondence with Mr. Cumming of the Lyon Office in Edinburgh about mine. He writes me the Glossins anciently bore for a motto, 'He who takes it, makes it.' ""If there be any uncertainty, sir, and the case were mine," said Bertram, "I would assume the old motto, which seems to me the better of the two."Glossin, whose tongue by this time clove to the roof of his mouth, only answered by a nod.
"It is odd enough," said Bertram, fixing his eye upon the arms and gateway, and partly addressing Glossin, partly as it were thinking aloud--"it is odd the tricks which our memory plays us. The remnants of an old prophecy, or song, or rhyme, of some kind or other, return to my recollection on hearing that motto--stay--it is a strange jingle of sounds:
The dark shall be light, And the wrong made right, When Bertram's right and Bertram's might Shall meet on--I cannot remember the last line--on some particular height--height is the rhyme, I am sure; but I cannot hit upon the preceding word.""Confound your memory," muttered Glossin, "you remember by far too much of it!""There are other rhymes connected with these early recollections,"continued the young man : "Pray, sir, is there any song current in this part of the world respecting a daughter of the King of the Isle of Man eloping with a Scottish knight?""I am the worst person in the world to consult upon legendary antiquities," answered Glossin.
"I could sing such a ballad," said Bertram, "from one end to another, when I was a boy. You must know I left Scotland, which is my native country, very young, and those who brought me up discouraged all my attempts to preserve recollection of my native land, on account, I believe, of a boyish wish which I had to escape from their charge.""Very natural," said Glossin, but speaking as if his utmost efforts were unable to unseal his lips beyond the width of a quarter of an inch, so that his whole utterance was a kind of compressed muttering, very different from the round, bold, bullying voice with which he usually spoke. Indeed his appearance and demeanour during all this conversation seemed to diminish even his strength and stature; so that he appeared to wither into the shadow of himself, now advancing one foot, now the other, now stooping and wriggling his shoulders, now fumbling with the buttons of his waistcoat, now clasping his hands together,--in short, he was the picture of a mean-spirited shuffling rascal in the very agonies of detection. To these appearances Bertram was totally inattentive,--being dragged on as it were by the current of his own associations. Indeed, although he addressed Glossin, he was not so much thinking of him, as arguing upon the embarrassing state of his own feelings and recollection. "Yes," he said, "I preserved my language among the sailors, most of whom spoke English, and when I could get into a corner by myself, I used to sing all that song over from beginning to end--I have forgot it all now--but I remember the tune well, though I cannot guess what should at present so strongly recall it to my memory."He took his flageolet from his pocket, and played a ****** melody.
Apparently the tune awoke the corresponding associations of a damsel, who, close beside a fine spring about half-way down the descent, and which had once supplied the castle with water, was engaged in bleaching linen. She immediately took up the song:
"Are these the Links of Forth, she said, Or are they the crooks of Dee. Or the hannie woods of Warroch Head That I so fain would see?""By heaven," said Bertram, "it is the very ballad. I must learn these words from the girl.""Confusion!" thought Glossin; "if I cannot put a stop to this, all will be out. Oh, the devil take all ballads, and ballad-makers, and ballad-singers! and that d-d jade too, to set up her pipe!--You will have time enough for this on some other occasion,"he said aloud; "at present"--(for now he saw his emissary with two or three men coming up the bank),--"at present we must have some more serious conversation together.""How do you mean, sir?" said Bertram, turning short upon him, and not liking the tone which he made use of.
"Why, sir, as to that--I believe your name is Brown?" said Glossin.
"And what of that, sir?"
Glossin looked over his shoulder to see how near his party had approached; they were coming fast on.
"Vanbeest Brown? if I mistake not."
"And what of that, sir?" said Bertram, with increasing astonishment and displeasure.
