Vol.2 The House of Shaws

•Near midday,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 the descent,on a long ridge,the city of Edinburgh.There was a flag upon the castle,and ships moving or lying anchored in the inlet;both of which,for as far away as they were,I could distinguish clearly;and both brought my country heart into my mouth.Prsently ,I came by a house where a shepherd lived,and there I got a rough direction for the neighborhood of Cramond;and so,,from one another,I worked my way to the western side of the capital by Conlinton.A little farther on,and I was told I was in Cramond parish,and there I 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 plainnesss of my appearance,in my country habit,and that all the dusty from the road,consorted ill with the greatness of the place to which I was bound.But after two or maybe three persons 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 on the shaft of his cart,I asked him if he had ever heard of a house they called the House of Shaws.He stopped his cart and looked at me like the others. 'Ay'said he. 'What for?' 'It's a great house?'I asked. 'Doubtless,'said he. 'Ay,'said I, 'but the folk that are in it?' 'Folk?'cried he. 'Are you insane?There's no folk there-to call folk.' 'What?'say I; 'Not Mr.Ebenezer?' 'Ou,ay,'said the man; 'there's the lord,to sure,if it's him you're wanting.What'll like be your business,man?' 'I was led to think that I would get a situation,'1 said,looking as modest as I could. 'What?'cries the carter,in so sharp a note that his very horse started and then, 'Well,man,'he added,' 'it's none of my affairs;but you seem a decent-spoken lad;and if you'll take a word from me,you'll keep clear of the Shaws.'I cannot 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 parish should start and stare to be asked the way to it?Or what sort of a gentleman the lord that his ill-fame should be thus current on the wayside?If an hour's walking would have brought me back to Essendean,I had left my adventure then and there,and returned to Mr.Campbell's.But when I had come so far away already,mere shame would not suffer me to desist till I had seen the house for myself and so I continued on my path.It was drawing on to sundown when I met a stout,dark,sour-looking woman trudging down a hill;and she,when I had put my usual question,turned sharp about,accompanied me back to the summit she had just left,and pointed to a great bulk of building standing very bare upon a green in the bottom of the next valley.The country was pleasant round about,running in low hills,pleasantly watered ad wooded,and the crops,to my eyes,wonderfully good:but the house itself appeared to be kind of ruin;no road led up to it;no smoke arose from any of the chimmeys;nor was there any semblance of a garden.My heart sank. 'That!'I cried.At this,the woman's face lit up with a malignant anger. 'That is the House of Shaws!'she cried and went her way.I sat down and stared at the House of Shaws.The house was dilapidated and I was disheartened.At sunset,I saw smoke rise from one of the chimneys of the house and I felt comforted to see that someone lived there.So I set forward by a little,faint track before me towards the house.The more I went towards the house,the more I become convinced that no one lived there.Presently it brought me to stone uprights,with an unroofed lodge beside them,and coats of arms upon the top.A main entrance it was plainly meant to be but never finished;instead of gates of wrought iron,a pair of hurdles were tied across with a straw rope;and as there were no park walls,nor any sign of avenue,the track that I was following passed on the right hand of 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,I saw the glimmering light of a fireplace.Was this the palace I was intended to come to?Was it within these walls that I was to seek new friends and begin great fortunes?I went forward cautiously,and listening intently as I came,heard someone 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.When I came to the door,I stopped and knocked once.Then I stood and waited.The house had fallen into a dead silence after the knock.A whole minute passed away,and nothing stirred but the bats overheard.I knocked again,and waited again.By this time my ears had grown so accustomed to the quiet,that I could hear the clock ticking inside the house.It was sometime before that I saw a man's head appear in one of the first-storey windows in a tall nightcap and bearing a blunderbuss. 'I have come here with a letter,'I said,'to Mr.Ebenezer Balfour of Shaws.Is he here?' 'Well,'the man replied, 'you can put it down upon the doorstep and go away.' 'I will do no such thing,'I cried. 'I will delivered it into Mr.Balfour's hands,as it was meant I should.It is a letter on introduction.' 'A what?'cried the voice sharply.I repeated what I had said, 'Who are you?'was the next question,after a considerable pause. 'They call me David Balfour,'I said .At that,I saw the man flinched,for I heard the blunderbuss rattle on the windowsill;and it was quiet after 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 dead,no doubt;and that'll be what brings you chapping to my door.'Another pause and then defiantly,he said, 'Well,I 'll let you in,'and he disappeared from the window.