John Anderson, the proprietor of the “Bull’s Head,” stood gazing wrathfully upon the scene of disorder which met his eyes as he opened the door of the sitting-room of his distinguished lodger’s apartments. It was early evening, and still that lodger remained in bed, although he had been called at different intervals throughout the day by the irate, though kind-hearted, landlord himself. “Dear—dear—dear,” he muttered to himself, as he arranged the furniture, “I’ll just give Robbie a bit o’ my mind.” He went to the door of the sleeping apartment and looked in. “Sleepin’ like a bairn,” he said softly, “an’—an’ wi’ his boots on. Ma certie!” He raised his hands in horror. “Weel, I’m glad ye’re nae under the bed. Ah, weel, young blood must hae its course. I mind I was young mysel’, an’ if I do say it I could drink mair whusky than any mon in the toon. Oh, those were happy days,” and he sang softly to himself, as he continued his work about the room: “We are na fou’
We’re nat that fou’,
But just a droppie in our ee.
The cock may craw,
The day may daw’,
An’ ay we’ll taste the barley bree.”
[159]
A knock on the door interrupted his song.
“Weel, who is it?” he called impatiently.
“Open the door,” replied a female voice eagerly.
“A lassie,” exclaimed John in amazement. “Oh, Robbie, ye devil.” He swung open the door and stood back to allow the gorgeously dressed lady to enter the room. Her dress of rich purple brocaded silk, cut in the extreme of fashion, rustled stiffly over the polished floor. Her head with its powdered wig was held haughtily erect as she surveyed the room with sparkling black eyes that nervously took in her surroundings, through the tiny holes in the black mask which concealed her face.
“I—I thought—isn’t Mr. Burns at home?” she stammered uneasily.
“Weel, what may ye be wantin’ wi’ Mr. Burns?” asked John cautiously. He had been bothered to death with answering the questions of the silly women who flocked to the parlors of the inn in hopes of seeing their idol.
The lady turned on him sharply. “None of your business, my good man,” she retorted haughtily. “How dare you question me, sirrah?”
John was quite taken aback by the imperious tones, but he still had his suspicions. “Weel, I thought perhaps ye were one o’ the artless bonnie wenches who were here last night wi’ the lads makin’ merry till the wee sma’ hours. If ye are——” he paused significantly.
[160]
She flashed him an angry look. “Make your mind easy on that score, my good fellow,” she retorted icily. “I have called to interview Mr. Burns on an important matter. Is he at home?”
“Aye; he is in there asleep,” replied John, pointing to a door beside the large book cabinet, which nearly occupied one side of the room.
“Asleep!” she repeated incredulously. “Lud, he retires uncommon early for a gallant,” and there was a note of disappointment in her deep contralto voice.
“Early is it?” said John, with a knowing smile. “Faith, he hasna been up this day.”
“What?” she ejaculated in horror. “Not all day? Then you must awaken him immediately. I must have speech with him at once,” and she spread her voluminous draperies over the wide lounge and calmly seated herself. “Do you hear?” she cried impatiently, as John made no move.
“I hae excellent hearin’, mum,” replied John carelessly, “but I ken when I’m well off, an’ I hae nae desire to feel the toe o’ Robert’s boot.”
“A pest on your stubbornness, fool,” she cried angrily, springing to her feet.
“An’ I hae my doubts o’ a lass who comes to a mon’s lodgings at night,” continued John, resenting her impatience. “It’s na respectable.”
She looked him over insolently, then shrugged her shoulders. “I protest, landlord,” she replied, in[161] a mocking tone, “I am quite respectable, even if I am here unchaperoned. But, Lud, I like not conventionalities, and this adventure suits my madcap spirit well.” She walked to the door of the sleeping chamber and was about to open it, when his voice arrested her.
“I ken it all the time,” he cried indignantly. “Ye’re a brazen hussy.”
“Landlord!” she gasped in astonishment.
“An’ ye can leave my inn,” continued John, now thoroughly aroused. “We are respectable, if ye are na.”
“Peace, fool!” she exclaimed furiously. “I am Lady Glen——” she stopped and bit her lips angrily at the indiscreet slip of her tongue. Suddenly a daring thought entered her mind. One glance at his face told her that he had not caught the name. To think was to act with my lady. Then she continued glibly, “I am Lady Nancy Gordon, daughter of the Duke of Gordon, of Gordon Castle. It will be all over town in a day,” she thought with malicious satisfaction.
John staggered back as though he had been shot. “Ye Lady Nancy?” he gasped in amazement. “Oh, my lady, I ask your pardon.”
“’Tis not easily granted, numskull,” replied the imperious beauty, her black eyes flashing dangerously. The sound of a carriage rolling over the cobble stones suddenly arrested her attention. For[162] a moment she listened intently, then, with a startled exclamation, she turned to John and said in a frightened whisper, “’Fore heaven! if it should be my husband—my father, I mean, in pursuit of me.” She ran hastily to the window from where a view of the street could be obtained and threw open the casement.
“It would serve ye right, my lady,” said John to himself.
“Great heavens! ’tis my uncle, Sir William Creech!” she gasped. Then she said aloud, “Landlord, ’tis my father, as I feared! Oons! what a scrape I’m in.” She closed the shutter hastily.
“’Twill ruin your reputation to be found here at night, my lady,” cried John concernedly, trotting nervously to the window.
“O Lud,” she replied airily, “I’m not concerned over my reputation, ’tis already torn to ribbons by my dear friends. ’Tis my—my father’s wrath I fear. He is like to do some mischief.” An imperious knocking sounded on the door below.
“He has found ye, lassie,” cried old John excitedly. “Go down to him; dinna let him find ye here in Robbie’s chamber. Ye ken the blame will all fall on the lad,” and he sought to escort her to the door, but she evaded his outstretched hand with laughing unconcern.
“Nay, nay, my good fellow. I protest, I will not see him,” she exclaimed, with reckless abandon.[163] She would keep up the impersonation till the end. Another such chance to blast her enemy’s reputation would not come to her in a lifetime, she thought wickedly. “Listen,” she cried impetuously. “My father, the Duke of Gordon, while he admires the poetry of Mr. Burns, does not admire the man himself, consequently he did not send him an invitation to attend the masked ball which is given at Gordon Castle to-night,” she explained glibly. “’Twas a monstrous insult to the Bard of Scotland, and I told my father so, and that I would not countenance it. Then I stole away, as I thought, unobserved, and came here to induce Mr. Burns to return with me. Once inside the castle my father will be forced to receive him graciously. Now, hurry, landlord, tell him to dress and we’ll slip out quietly, and, with your connivance, elude my—father’s vigilance.” She watched him narrowly to note the effect of her story.
“My lady,” replied John proudly, “the lad goes to Athol Castle to-night, so ye had better gang hame wi’ your father.” She gave a quick start of delighted satisfaction. So he was going after all. If she had only known that and felt sure of it, she might have spared herself this nerve-racking experiment, she thought impatiently.
The pounding had kept up incessantly, and now a stern, commanding voice called out for the landlord.
“He’s calling me,” said John nervously; “ye’d[164] better go doon an’ explain a’ to him,” he told her pleadingly.
“Landlord, where the devil are you?” They could hear the heavy tread of feet walking about the rooms below.
“He’s inside the house,” whispered John, wringing his hands.
“O Lud, he seems most angry, doesn’t he?” she said in a subdued voice. She had suddenly grown tired of the deception, and was eager now to get away. “I—I think perhaps ’twould be best if he—er—my father didn’t find me here after all,” she admitted. “I—I really dare not face his anger.” She jumped up quickly, all her bravado vanished. “Get me out of this place, landlord, quick, quick!” she gasped, clinging to him. Oh, why had she come? Sir William would make such a disagreeable scene if he found her here.
“Into that room wi’ ye!” cried John quickly, pointing to a small door in the opposite side of the room; “an’ I’ll get your father out o’ the house.”
“Why couldn’t the old fossil have stayed at home?” she said to herself angrily. “This promised to be such a romantic adventure, landlord,” she said alo............