The Heart of Mid-Lothian, Volume 2. Вальтер Скотт
and so the auld carle," said Jeanie, for she was painfully interested in getting to the truth of Madge's history, which she could not but suspect was in some extraordinary way linked and entwined with the fate of her sister. She was also desirous, if possible, to engage her companion in some narrative which might be carried on in a lower tone of voice, for she was in great apprehension lest the elevated notes of Madge's conversation should direct her mother or the robbers in search of them.
"And so the auld carle," said Madge, repeating her words – "I wish ye had seen him stoiting about, aff ae leg on to the other, wi' a kind o' dot-and-go-one sort o' motion, as if ilk ane o' his twa legs had belanged to sindry folk – but Gentle George could take him aff brawly – Eh, as I used to laugh to see George gang hip-hop like him! – I dinna ken, I think I laughed heartier then than what I do now, though maybe no just sae muckle."
"And who was Gentle George?" said Jeanie, endeavouring to bring her back to her story.
"O, he was Geordie Robertson, ye ken, when he was in Edinburgh; but that's no his right name neither – His name is – But what is your business wi' his name?" said she, as if upon sudden recollection, "What have ye to do asking for folk's names? – Have ye a mind I should scour my knife between your ribs, as my mother says?"
As this was spoken with a menacing tone and gesture, Jeanie hastened to protest her total innocence of purpose in the accidental question which she had asked, and Madge Wildfire went on somewhat pacified.
"Never ask folk's names, Jeanie – it's no civil – I hae seen half-a-dozen o' folk in my mother's at ance, and ne'er ane a' them ca'd the ither by his name; and Daddie Ratton says, it is the most uncivil thing may be, because the bailie bodies are aye asking fashions questions, when ye saw sic a man, or sic a man; and if ye dinna ken their names, ye ken there can be nae mair speerd about it."
"In what strange school," thought Jeanie to herself, "has this poor creature been bred up, where such remote precautions are taken against the pursuits of justice? What would my father or Reuben Butler think if I were to tell them there are sic folk in the world? And to abuse the simplicity of this demented creature! Oh, that I were but safe at hame amang mine ain leal and true people! and I'll bless God, while I have breath, that placed me amongst those who live in His fear, and under the shadow of His wing."
She was interrupted by the insane laugh of Madge Wildfire, as she saw a magpie hop across the path.
"See there! – that was the gate my auld joe used to cross the country, but no just sae lightly – he hadna wings to help his auld legs, I trow; but I behoved to have married him for a' that, Jeanie, or my mother wad hae been the dead o' me. But then came in the story of my poor bairn, and my mother thought he wad be deaved wi' it's skirling, and she pat it away in below the bit bourock of turf yonder, just to be out o' the gate; and I think she buried my best wits with it, for I have never been just mysell since. And only think, Jeanie, after my mother had been at a' these pains, the auld doited body Johnny Drottle turned up his nose, and wadna hae aught to say to me! But it's little I care for him, for I have led a merry life ever since, and ne'er a braw gentleman looks at me but ye wad think he was gaun to drop off his horse for mere love of me. I have ken'd some o' them put their hand in their pocket, and gie me as muckle as sixpence at a time, just for my weel-faured face."
This speech gave Jeanie a dark insight into Madge's history. She had been courted by a wealthy suitor, whose addresses her mother had favoured, notwithstanding the objection of old age and deformity. She had been seduced by some profligate, and, to conceal her shame and promote the advantageous match she had planned, her mother had not hesitated to destroy the offspring of their intrigue. That the consequence should be the total derangement of amind which was constitutionally unsettled by giddiness and vanity, was extremely natural; and such was, in fact, the history of Madge Wildfire's insanity.
CHAPTER SEVENTH
So free from danger, free from fear
They crossed the court – right glad they were.
Pursuing the path which Madge had chosen, Jeanie Deans observed, to her no small delight, that marks of more cultivation appeared, and the thatched roofs of houses, with their blue smoke arising in little columns, were seen embosomed in a tuft of trees at some distance. The track led in that direction, and Jeanie, therefore, resolved, while Madge continued to pursue it, that she would ask her no questions; having had the penetration to observe, that by doing so she ran the risk of irritating her guide, or awakening suspicions, to the impressions of which, persons in Madge's unsettled state of mind are particularly liable.
Madge, therefore, uninterrupted, went on with the wild disjointed chat which her rambling imagination suggested; a mood in which she was much more communicative respecting her own history, and that of others, than when there was any attempt made, by direct queries, or cross-examinations, to extract information on these subjects.
"It's a queer thing," she said, "but whiles I can speak about the bit bairn and the rest of it, just as if it had been another body's, and no my ain; and whiles I am like to break my heart about it – Had you ever a bairn, Jeanie?"
Jeanie replied in the negative.
"Ay; but your sister had, though – and I ken what came o't too."
"In the name of heavenly mercy," said Jeanie, forgetting the line of conduct which she had hitherto adopted, "tell me but what became of that unfortunate babe, and"
Madge stopped, looked at her gravely and fixedly, and then broke into a great fit of laughing – "Aha, lass, – catch me if you can – I think it's easy to gar you trow ony thing. – How suld I ken onything o' your sister's wean? Lasses suld hae naething to do wi' weans till they are married – and then a' the gossips and cummers come in and feast as if it were the blithest day in the warld. – They say maidens' bairns are weel guided. I wot that wasna true of your tittie's and mine; but these are sad tales to tell. – I maun just sing a bit to keep up my heart – It's a sang that Gentle George made on me lang syne, when I went with him to Lockington wake, to see him act upon a stage, in fine clothes, with the player folk. He might hae dune waur than married me that night as he promised – better wed over the mixen13 as over the moor, as they say in Yorkshire —
he may gang farther and fare waur – but that's a' ane to the sang,
'I'm Madge of the country, I'm Madge of the town,
And I'm Madge of the lad I am blithest to own —
The Lady of Beeve in diamonds may shine,
But has not a heart half so lightsome as mine.
'I am Queen of the Wake, and I'm Lady of May,
And I lead the blithe ring round the May-pole to-day;
The wildfire that flashes so fair and so free,
Was never so bright, or so bonny, as me.'
"I like that the best o' a' my sangs," continued the maniac, "because he made it. I am often singing it, and that's maybe the reason folk ca' me Madge Wildfire. I aye answer to the name, though it's no my ain, for what's the use of making a fash?"
"But ye shouldna sing upon the Sabbath at least," said Jeanie, who, amid all her distress and anxiety, could not help being scandalised at the deportment of her companion, especially as they now approached near to the little village.
"Ay! is this Sunday?" said Madge. "My mother leads sic a life, wi' turning night into day, that ane loses a' count o' the days o' the week, and disna ken Sunday frae Saturday. Besides, it's a' your whiggery – in England, folk sings when they like – And then, ye ken, you are Christiana and I am Mercy – and ye ken, as they went on their way, they sang." – And she immediately raised one of John Bunyan's ditties: —
"He that is down need fear no fall,
He that is low no pride,
He that is humble ever shall
Have God to be his guide.
"Fulness to such a burthen is
That go on pilgrimage;
Here
A homely proverb, signifying better wed a neighbour than one fetched from a distance. – Mixen signifies dunghill.