The Fortunes of Nigel. Вальтер Скотт

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СКАЧАТЬ she put the silver posset-cup with the ale into Jenny’s hands and assuming her mantle with the alacrity of one determined to sacrifice inclination to duty, she hid the stewpan under its folds, and commanded Wilsa, the little mulatto girl, to light them across the street.

      “Whither away, so late?” said the barber, whom they passed seated with his starveling boys round a mess of stockfish and parsnips, in the shop below.

      “If I were to tell you, Gaffer,” said the dame, with most contemptuous coolness, “I do not think you could do my errand, so I will e’en keep it to myself.” Benjamin was too much accustomed to his wife’s independent mode of conduct, to pursue his inquiry farther; nor did the dame tarry for farther question, but marched out at the door, telling the eldest of the boys “to sit up till her return, and look to the house the whilst.”

      The night was dark and rainy, and although the distance betwixt the two shops was short, it allowed Dame Ursley leisure enough, while she strode along with high-tucked petticoats, to embitter it by the following grumbling reflections – “I wonder what I have done, that I must needs trudge at every old beldam’s bidding, and every young minx’s maggot! I have been marched from Temple Bar to Whitechapel, on the matter of a pinmaker’s wife having pricked her fingers – marry, her husband that made the weapon might have salved the wound. – And here is this fantastic ape, pretty Mistress Marget, forsooth – such a beauty as I could make of a Dutch doll, and as fantastic, and humorous, and conceited, as if she were a duchess. I have seen her in the same day as changeful as a marmozet and as stubborn as a mule. I should like to know whether her little conceited noddle, or her father’s old crazy calculating jolter-pate, breeds most whimsies. But then there’s that two hundred pounds a-year in dirty land, and the father is held a close chuff, though a fanciful – he is our landlord besides, and she has begged a late day from him for our rent; so, God help me, I must be comfortable – besides, the little capricious devil is my only key to get at Master George Heriot’s secret, and it concerns my character to find that out; and so, ANDIAMOS, as the lingua franca hath it.”

      Thus pondering, she moved forward with hasty strides until she arrived at the watchmaker’s habitation. The attendant admitted them by means of a pass-key. Onward glided Dame Ursula, now in glimmer and now in gloom, not like the lovely Lady Cristabelle through Gothic sculpture and ancient armour, but creeping and stumbling amongst relics of old machines, and models of new inventions in various branches of mechanics with which wrecks of useless ingenuity, either in a broken or half-finished shape, the apartment of the fanciful though ingenious mechanist was continually lumbered.

      At length they attained, by a very narrow staircase, pretty Mistress Margaret’s apartment, where she, the cynosure of the eyes of every bold young bachelor in Fleet Street, sat in a posture which hovered between the discontented and the disconsolate. For her pretty back and shoulders were rounded into a curve, her round and dimpled chin reposed in the hollow of her little palm, while the fingers were folded over her mouth; her elbow rested on a table, and her eyes seemed fixed upon the dying charcoal, which was expiring in a small grate. She scarce turned her head when Dame Ursula entered, and when the presence of that estimable matron was more precisely announced in words by the old Scotswoman, Mistress Margaret, without changing her posture, muttered some sort of answer that was wholly unintelligible.

      “Go your ways down to the kitchen with Wilsa, good Mistress Jenny,” said Dame Ursula, who was used to all sorts of freaks, on the part of her patients or clients, whichever they might be termed; “put the stewpan and the porringer by the fireside, and go down below – I must speak to my pretty love, Mistress Margaret, by myself – and there is not a bachelor betwixt this and Bow but will envy me the privilege.”

      The attendants retired as directed, and Dame Ursula, having availed herself of the embers of charcoal, to place her stewpan to the best advantage, drew herself as close as she could to her patient, and began in a low, soothing, and confidential tone of voice, to inquire what ailed her pretty flower of neighbours.

      “Nothing, dame,” said Margaret somewhat pettishly, and changing her posture so as rather to turn her back upon the kind inquirer.

      “Nothing, lady-bird!” answered Dame Suddlechop; “and do you use to send for your friends out of bed at this hour for nothing?”

      “It was not I who sent for you, dame,” replied the malecontent maiden.

      “And who was it, then?” said Ursula; “for if I had not been sent for, I had not been here at this time of night, I promise you!”

      “It was the old Scotch fool Jenny, who did it out of her own head, I suppose,” said Margaret; “for she has been stunning me these two hours about you and Mother Redcap.”

      “Me and Mother Redcap!” said Dame Ursula, “an old fool indeed, that couples folk up so. – But come, come, my sweet little neighbour, Jenny is no such fool after all; she knows young folks want more and better advice than her own, and she knows, too, where to find it for them; so you must take heart of grace, my pretty maiden, and tell me what you are moping about, and then let Dame Ursula alone for finding out a cure.”

      “Nay, an ye be so wise, Mother Ursula,” replied the girl, “you may guess what I ail without my telling you.”

      “Ay, ay, child,” answered the complaisant matron, “no one can play better than I at the good old game of What is my thought like? Now I’ll warrant that little head of yours is running on a new head-tire, a foot higher than those our city dames wear – or you are all for a trip to Islington or Ware, and your father is cross and will not consent – or – ”

      “Or you are an old fool, Dame Suddlechop,” said Margaret, peevishly, “and must needs trouble yourself about matters you know nothing of.”

      “Fool as much as you will, mistress,” said Dame Ursula, offended in her turn, “but not so very many years older than yourself, mistress.”

      “Oh! we are angry, are we?” said the beauty; “and pray, Madam Ursula, how come you, that are not so many years older than me, to talk about such nonsense to me, who am so many years younger, and who yet have too much sense to care about head-gears and Islington?”

      “Well, well, young mistress,” said the sage counsellor, rising, “I perceive I can be of no use here; and methinks, since you know your own matters so much better than other people do, you might dispense with disturbing folks at midnight to ask their advice.”

      “Why, now you are angry, mother,” said Margaret, detaining her; “this comes of your coming out at eventide without eating your supper – I never heard you utter a cross word after you had finished your little morsel. – Here, Janet, a trencher and salt for Dame Ursula; – and what have you in that porringer, dame? – Filthy clammy ale, as I would live – Let Janet fling it out of the window, or keep it for my father’s morning draught; and she shall bring you the pottle of sack that was set ready for him – good man, he will never find out the difference, for ale will wash down his dusty calculations quite as well as wine.”

      “Truly, sweetheart, I am of your opinion,” said Dame Ursula, whose temporary displeasure vanished at once before these preparations for good cheer; and so, settling herself on the great easy-chair, with a three-legged table before her, she began to dispatch, with good appetite, the little delicate dish which she had prepared for herself. She did not, however, fail in the duties of civility, and earnestly, but in vain, pressed Mistress Margaret to partake her dainties. The damsel declined the invitation.

      “At least pledge me in a glass of sack,” said Dame Ursula; “I have heard my grandame say, that before the gospellers came in, the old Catholic father confessors and their penitents always had a cup of sack together before confession; and you are my penitent.”

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