1999-2002(Return to Web Text-ures)
Click Here to return to
Click Here to return to
the previous section
I COME TO MY JOURNEY'S END
On the forenoon of the second day,
coming to the top
of a hill, I saw all the country fall away before me down to the sea;
and in the
midst of this descent, on a long ridge, the city of Edinburgh smoking
kiln. There was a
flag upon the
castle, and ships moving or lying anchored in the firth; both of which,
far away as they were, I could distinguish clearly; and both brought my
heart into my mouth.
Presently after, I came by a house
where a shepherd
lived, and got a rough direction for the neighbourhood of Cramond; and
one to another, worked my way to the westward of the capital by
Colinton, till I
came out upon the Glasgow road. And
there, to my great pleasure and wonder, I beheld a regiment marching to
fifes, every foot in time; an old red-faced general on a grey horse at
end, and at the other the company of Grenadiers, with their Pope's-hats.
The pride of life seemed to mount into my brain at
the sight of the red
coats and the hearing of that merry music.
A little farther on, and I was told I was in Cramond parish, and began to substitute in my inquiries the name of the house of Shaws. It was a word that seemed to surprise those of whom I sought my way. At first I thought the plainness of my appearance, in my country habit, and that all dusty from the road, consorted ill with the greatness of the place to which I was bound. But after two, or maybe three, had given me the same look and the same answer, I began to take it in my head there was something strange about the Shaws itself.
The better to set this fear at
rest, I changed the
form of my inquiries; and spying an honest fellow coming along a lane
shaft of his cart, I asked him if he had ever heard tell of a house
the house of Shaws.
He stopped his cart and looked at
me, like the
"Ay" said he. "What for?"
"It's a great house?" I asked.
"Doubtless," says he. "The house is
big, muckle house."
"Ay," said I, "but the folk that
"Folk?" cried he. "Are ye daft? There's nae folk there — to call folk."
"What?" say I;
"not Mr. Ebenezer?"
"Ou, ay" says the man; "there's the
laird, to be sure, if it's him you're wanting.
What'll like be your business, mannie?"
"I was led to think that I would
situation," I said, looking as modest as I could.
"What?" cries the carter, in so
note that his very horse started; and then, "Well, mannie," he added,
"it's nane of my affairs; but ye seem a decent-spoken lad; and if ye'll
take a word from me, ye'll keep clear of the Shaws."
The next person I came across was a dapper little man in a beautiful white wig, whom I saw to be a barber on his rounds; and knowing well that barbers were great gossips, I asked him plainly what sort of a man was Mr. Balfour of the Shaws.
"Hoot, hoot, hoot," said the barber, "nae kind of a man, nae kind of a man at all;" and began to ask me very shrewdly what my business was; but I was more than a match for him at that, and he went on to his next customer no wiser than he came.
I cannot well describe the blow this dealt to my illusions. The more indistinct the accusations were, the less I liked them, for they left the wider field to fancy. What kind of a great house was this, that all the parish should start and stare to be asked the way to it? or what sort of a gentleman, that his ill-fame should be thus current on the wayside? If an hour's walking would have brought me back to Essendean, had left my adventure then and there, and returned to Mr. Campbell's. But when I had come so far a way already, mere shame would not suffer me to desist till I had put the matter to the touch of proof; I was bound, out of mere self-respect, to carry it through; and little as I liked the sound of what I heard, and slow as I began to travel, I still kept asking my way and still kept advancing.
It was drawing on to sundown when I
met a stout,
dark, sour-looking woman coming trudging down a hill; and she, when I
had put my
usual question, turned sharp about, accompanied me back to the summit
just left, and pointed to a great bulk of building standing very bare
green in the bottom of the next valley.
country was pleasant round about, running in low hills, pleasantly
wooded, and the crops, to my eyes, wonderfully good; but the house
appeared to be a kind of ruin; no road led up to it; no smoke arose
from any of
the chimneys; nor was there any semblance of a garden.
My heart sank.
"That!" I cried.
The woman's face lit up with a malignant anger. "That is the house of Shaws!" she cried. "Blood built it; blood stopped the building of it; blood shall bring it down. See here!" she cried again — "I spit upon the ground, and crack my thumb at it! Black be its fall! If ye see the laird, tell him what ye hear; tell him this makes the twelve hunner and nineteen time that Jennet Clouston has called down the curse on him and his house, byre and stable, man, guest, and master, wife, miss, or bairn — black, black be their fall!"
And the woman, whose voice had
risen to a kind of
eldritch sing-song, turned with a skip, and was gone.
I stood where she left me, with my hair on end.
In those days folk still believed in witches and
trembled at a curse; and
this one, falling so pat, like a wayside omen, to arrest me ere I
carried out my
purpose, took the pith out of my legs.
I sat me down and stared at the house of Shaws. The more I looked, the pleasanter that country-side appeared; being all set with hawthorn bushes full of flowers; the fields dotted with sheep; a fine flight of rooks in the sky; and every sign of a kind soil and climate; and yet the barrack in the midst of it went sore against my fancy.
Country folk went by from the
fields as I sat there
on the side of the ditch, but I lacked the spirit to give them a
last the sun went down, and then, right up against the yellow sky, I
scroll of smoke go mounting, not much thicker, as it seemed to me, than
smoke of a candle; but still there it was, and meant a fire, and
cookery, and some living inhabitant that must have lit it; and this
So I set forward by a little faint
track in the grass
that led in my direction. It
very faint indeed to be the only way to a place of habitation; yet I
other. Presently it
brought me to
stone uprights, with an unroofed lodge beside them, and coats of arms
top. A main
entrance it was plainly
meant to be, but never finished; instead of gates of wrought iron, a
hurdles were tied across with a straw rope; and as there were no park
any sign of avenue, the track that I was following passed on the right
the pillars, and went wandering on toward the house.
The nearer I got to that, the
drearier it appeared.
It seemed like the one wing of a house that had
never been finished.
What should have been the inner end stood open on
the upper floors, and
showed against the sky with steps and stairs of uncompleted masonry.
Many of the windows were unglazed, and bats flew in
and out like doves
out of a dove-cote.
The night had begun to fall as I got close; and in three of the lower windows, which were very high up and narrow, and well barred, the changing light of a little fire began to glimmer. Was this the palace I had been coming to? Was it within these walls that I was to seek new friends and begin great fortunes? Why, in my father's house on Essen-Waterside, the fire and the bright lights would show a mile away, and the door open to a beggar's knock!
I came forward cautiously, and giving ear as I came, heard some one rattling with dishes, and a little dry, eager cough that came in fits; but there was no sound of speech, and not a dog barked.
The door, as well as I could see it in the dim light, was a great piece of wood all studded with nails; and I lifted my hand with a faint heart under my jacket, and knocked once. Then I stood and waited. The house had fallen into a dead silence; a whole minute passed away, and nothing stirred but the bats overhead. I knocked again, and hearkened again. By this time my ears had grown so accustomed to the quiet, that I could hear the ticking of the clock inside as it slowly counted out the seconds; but whoever was in that house kept deadly still, and must have held his breath.
I was in two minds whether to run away; but anger got the upper hand, and I began instead to rain kicks and buffets on the door, and to shout out aloud for Mr. Balfour. I was in full career, when I heard the cough right overhead, and jumping back and looking up, beheld a man's head in a tall nightcap, and the bell mouth of a blunderbuss, at one of the first-storey windows.
"It's loaded," said a voice.
"I have come here with a letter," I
"to Mr. Ebenezer Balfour of Shaws.
"From whom is it?" asked the man
"That is neither here nor there," said I, for I was growing very wroth.
"Well," was the reply, "ye can put it down upon the doorstep, and be off with ye."
"I will do no such thing," I cried.
"I will deliver it into Mr. Balfour's hands, as it
was meant I
should. It is a
"A what?" cried the voice, sharply.
I repeated what I had said.
"Who are ye, yourself?" was the
question, after a considerable pause.
"I am not ashamed of my name," said
"They call me David Balfour."
At that, I made sure the man started, for I heard the blunderbuss rattle on the window-sill; and it was after quite a long pause, and with a curious change of voice, that the next question followed:
"Is your father dead?"
I was so much surprised at this, that I could find no voice to answer, but stood staring.
"Ay" the man resumed, "he'll be
no doubt; and that'll be what brings ye chapping to my door."
Another pause, and then defiantly, "Well, man," he
"I'll let ye in;" and he disappeared from the window.
Click here to continue to the next chapter of Kidnapped