Now, it must be confessed, that our friend Sampson, although a
profound scholar and mathematician, had not travelled so far in
philosophy as to doubt the reality of witchcraft or apparitions.
Born indeed at a time when a doubt in the existence of witches was
interpreted as equivalent to a justification of their infernal
practices, a belief of such legends had been impressed upon the
Dominie as an article indivisible from his religious faith, and
perhaps it would have been equally difficult to have induced him to
doubt the one as the other. With these feelings, and in a thick
misty day, which was already drawing to its close, Dominie Sampson
did not pass the Kaim of Derncleugh without some feelings of tacit
horror.

What then was his astonishment, when, on passing the door--that
door which was supposed to have been placed there by one of the
latter Lairds of Ellangowan to prevent presumptuous strangers from
incurring the dangers of the haunted vault--that door, supposed to
be always locked, and the key of which was popularly said to be
deposited with the presbytery--that door, that very door, opened
suddenly, and the figure of Meg Merrilies, well known, though not
seen for many a revolving year, was placed at once before the eyes
of the startled Dominie! She stood immediately before him in the
footpath, confronting him so absolutely, that he could not avoid
her except by fairly turning back, which his manhood prevented him
from thinking of.

"I kenn'd ye wad be here," she said with her harsh and hollow
voice "I ken wha ye seek; but ye maun do my bidding."

"Get thee behind me!" said the alarmed Dominie--"Avoid ye!--
Conjuro te, scelestissima--nequissima--spurcissima--iniquissima--
atque miserrim--conjuro te!!!"--Meg stood her ground against this 
tremendous volley of superlatives, which Sampson hawked up from the 
pit of his stomach, and hurled at her in thunder. "Is the carl 
daft," she said, "wi' his glamour?"

"Conjuro," continued the Dominie, "abjuro contestor, atque
viriliter impero tibi!"--

"What, in the name of Sathan, are ye feared for, wi' your French
gibberish, that would make a dog sick? Listen, ye stickit stibbler,
[*A broken-down clerical probationer.] to what I tell ye, or ye
sall rue it while there's a limb o' ye hings to anither!--Tell
Colonel Mannering that I ken he's seeking me. He kens, and I ken,
that the blood will be wiped out, and the lost will be found,

"And Bertram's right and Bertram's mlght Shall meet on Ellangowan
height.

Hae, there's a letter to him, I was gaun to send it in another
way.--I canna write mysell; but I hae them that will baith write
and read, and ride and rin for me. Tell him the time's coming now,
and the weird's dreed [*The destiny is fulfilled.] and the wheel's
turning. Bid him look at the stars as he has looked at them
before.--Will ye mind a' this?"

"Assuredly," said the Dominie, "I am dubious--for, woman, I am
perturbed at thy words, and my flesh quakes to hear thee."

"'They'll do you nae ill though, and maybe muckle gude."

"Avoid ye! I desire no good that comes by unlawful means."

"Fule-body that thou art," said Meg, stepping up to him with a
frown of indignation that made her dark eyes flash like lamps from
under her bent brows,--"Fule-body! if I meant ye wrang, couldna I
clod [*Hurl.] ye ower that craig [*Steep rock.], and wad man ken
how ye cam by your end mair than Frank Kennedy? Hear ye that, ye
worricow?" [*Scarecrow.]

"In the name of all that is good," said the Dominie, recoiling, and
pointing his long pewter-headed walking-cane like a javelin at the
supposed sorceress,--"in the name of all that is good, bide off
hands! I will not be handled woman, stand off, upon thine own
proper peril!--desist, I say--I am strong--lo, I will
resist!"--Here his speech was cut short; for Meg, armed with
supernatural strength, (as the Dominie asserted), broke in upon his
guard, put by a thrust which he made at her with his cane, and
lifted him into the vault, "as easily," said he, "as I could sway a
Kitchen's Atlas."

"Sit down there," she said, pushing the half-throttled preacher
with some violence against a broken chair,--"sit down there, and
gather your wind and your senses, ye black barrow-tram [*Limb.] o'
the kirk that ye are--Are ye fou or fasting?"

"Fasting--from all but sin," answered the Dominie, who, recovering
his voice, and finding his exorcisms only served to exasperate the
intractable sorceress, thought it best to affect complaisance and
submission, inwardly conning over, however, the wholesome
conjurations which he durst no longer utter aloud. But as the
Dominie's brain was by no means equal to carry on two trains of
ideas at the same time, a word or two of his mental exercise
sometimes escaped, and mingled with his uttered speech in a manner
ludicrous enough, especially as the poor man shrunk himself
together after every escape of the kind, from terror of the effect
it might produce upon the irritable feelings of the witch.

Meg, in the meanwhile, went to a great black cauldron that was
boiling on a fire on the floor, and, lifting the lid, an odour was
diffused through the vault, which, if the vapours of a witch's
cauldron could in aught be trusted, promised better things than the
hell-broth which such vessels are usually supposed to contain. It
was in fact the savour of a goodly stew, composed of fowls, hares,
partridges, and moorgame, boiled, in a large mess with potatoes,
onions, and leeks, and from the size of the cauldron, appeared to
be prepared for half a dozen people at least. "So ye hae eat
naething a' day?" said Meg, heaping a large portion of this mess
into a brown dish, and strewing it savourily with salt and pepper.
[*We must again have recourse to the contribution to Blackwood's
Magazine, April 1817 :--

"To the admirers of good eating, Gipsy cookery seems to have little
to recommend it. I can assure you, however, that the cook of a
nobleman of high distinction, a person who never reads even a novel
without an eye to the enlargement of the culinary science, has
added to the Almanach des Gourmands, a certain Potage a la Meg
Merrilies de Dernclough, consisting of game and poultry of all
kinds, stewed with vegetables into a soup, which rivals in savour
and richness the gallant messes of Comacho's wedding; and which the
Baron of Bradwardine would certainly have reckoned among the
Epulae, lautiores."

[The artist alluded to in this passage in Mons. Florence, cook to
Henry and Charles, late Dukes of Buccleuch, and of high distinction
in his profession.]

"Nothing," answered the Dominie--"scelestissima!--that
is--gudewife."

"Hae then," said she, placing the dish before him, "there's what
will warm your heart."

"I do not hunger--malefica--that is to say--Mrs. Merrilies!" for
he said unto himself, ,the savour is sweet, but it bath been cooked
by a Canidia or an Ericthoe."

"If ye dinna eat instantly, and put some saul in ye, by the bread
and the salt, I'll put it down your throat wi' the cutty [*Short.]
spoon, scaulding as it is, and whether ye will or no. Gape,
sinner, and swallow!"

Sampson, afraid of eye of newt, and toe of frog, tigers' chaudrons,
and so forth, had determined not to venture; but the smell of the
stew was fast melting his obstinacy, which flowed from his chops as
it were in streams of water, and the witch's threats decided him to
feed. Hunger and fear are excellent casuists.

"Saul," said Hunger, "feasted with the witch of Endor."--"And,"
quoth Fear, "the salt which she sprinkled upon the food showeth
plainly it is not a necromantic banquet, in which that seasoning
never occurs."--"And, besides," says Hunger, after the first
spoonful, "it is savoury and refreshing viands."

"So ye like the meat?" said the hostess. "Yea," answered the
Dominie, "and I give thee thanks-sceleratissima!--which
means--Mrs. Margaret."

"Aweel, eat your fill; but an ye kenn'd how it was gotten, ye'
maybe wadna like it sae weel. "Sampson's spoon dropped, in the act
of conveying its load to his mouth. There's been mony a moon-light
watch to bring a' that trade thegither," continued Meg,--"the folk
that are to eat that dinner thought little o' your game-laws."

"Is that all?" thought Sampson, resuming his spoon, and shovelling
away manfully; "I will not lack my food upon that argument."

"Now, ye maun tak a dram?"

"I will," quoth Sampson--"conjuro te--that is, I thank you
heartily," for he thought to himself, in for a penny, in for a
pound; and he fairly drank the witch's health, in a cupful of
brandy. When he had put this cope-stone upon Meg's good cheer, he
felt, as he said, "mightily elevated, and afraid of no evil which
could befall unto him."

"Will ye remember my errand now?" said Meg Merrilies; "I ken by the
cast o' your ee that ye're anither man than when you cam in."

"I will, Mrs. Margaret," repeated Sampson stoutly "I will deliver
unto him the sealed yepistle, and will add what you please to send
by word of mouth."

"Then I'll make it short," says Meg. "Tell him to look at the
stars without fail this night, and to do what I desire him in that
letter, as he would wish

  "That Bertram's right and Bertram's might 
  Should meet on Ellangowan height.

I have seen him twice when he saw na me; I ken when he was in this
country first, and I ken what's brought him back again. Up, an' to
the gate! ye're ower lang here-follow me."

Sampson followed the sibyl accordingly, who guided him about a
quarter of a mile through the woods, by a shorter cut than he could
have found for himself; they then entered upon the common, Meg
still marching before him at a great pace, until she gained the top
of a small hillock which overhung the road.

"Here," she said, "stand still here. Look how the setting sun
breaks through yon cloud that's been darkening the lift a' day. See
where the first stream o' light fa's--it's upon Donagild's round
tower--the auldest tower in the Castle o' Ellangowan--that's no for
naething!--See as it's glooming to seaward abune yon sloop in the
bay--that's no for naething neither.--Here I stood on this very
spot," said she, drawing herself up so as not to lose one
hair-breadth of her uncommon height, and stretching out her long
sinewy arm and clenched hand, "Here I stood, when I tauld the last
Laird o' Ellangowan what was coming on his house--and did that fa'
to the ground?--na--it bit even ower sair!--And here, where I brake
the wand of peace ower him--here I stand again--to bid God bless
and prosper the just heir of Ellangowan that will sune be brought
to his ain; and the best laird he shall be that Ellangowan has seen
for three hundred years.--I'll no live to see it, maybe; but there
will be mony a blithe ee see it though mine be closed. And now,
Abel Sampson, as ever ye lo'ed the house of Ellangowan, away wi' my
message, to the English Colonel, as if life and death were upon
your haste!"

So saying, she turned suddenly from the amazed Dominie, and
regained with swift and long strides the shelter of the wood from
which she had issued, at the point where it most encroached upon
the common. Sampson gazed after her for a moment in utter
astonishment, and then obeyed her directions,--hurrying to
Woodbourne at a pace very unusual for him, exclaiming three times,
"Prodigious! prodigious! prodi-gi-ous! "



CHAPTER XLVII.

  --It is not madness That I have utter'd; bring me to the
  test, And I the matter will re-word; which madness Would
  gambol from.
    Hamlet

As Mr. Sampson crossed the hall with a bewildered look, Mrs.
Allan, the good housekeeper, who, with the reverent attention which
is usually rendered to the clergy in Scotland, was on the watch for
his return, sallied forth to meet him--" What's this o't now, Mr.
Sampson, this is waur than ever!--Ye'll really do yourself some
injury wi' these lang fasts--naething's sae hurtful to the stamach,
Mr. Sampson;--if ye would but put some peppermint draps in your
pocket, or let Barnes cut ye a sandwich."

"Avoid thee!" quoth the Dominie, his mind running still upon his
interview with Meg Merrilies, and making for the dining-parlour.

"Na, ye needna gang in there, the cloth's been removed an hour
syne, and the Colonel's at his wine; but just step into my room, I
have a nice steak that the cook will do in a moment."

"Exorciso te!" said Sampson,--"that is, I have dined."

"Dined! it's impossible--wha can ye hae dined wi', you that gangs
out nae gate?"

"With Beelzebub, I believe," said the minister.

"Na, then he's bewitched for certain," said the housekeeper,
letting go her hold; "he's bewitched, or he's daft, and ony way the
Colonel maun just guide him his ain gate--Wae's me! Hech, sirs!
It's a sair thing to see learning bring folk to this!" And with
this compassionate ejaculation, she retreated into her own
premises.

The object of her commiseration had by this time entered the
dining-parlour, where his appearance gave great surprise. He was
mud up to the' shoulders, and the natural paleness of his hue was
twice as cadaverous as usual, through terror, fatigue, and
perturbation of mind. "What on earth is the meaning of this, Mr.
Sampson?" said Mannering, who observed Miss Bertram looking much
alarmed for her simple but attached friend.

"Exorciso,"--said the Dominie.

"How, sir?" replied the astonished Colonel.

"I crave pardon, honourable sir! but my wits--"

"Are gone a wool-gathering, I think--pray, Mr. Sampson, collect
yourself, and let me know the meaning of all this."

Sampson was about to reply, but finding his Latin formula of
exorcism still came most readily to his tongue, he prudently
desisted from the attempt, and put the scrap of paper which he had
received from the gipsy into Mannering's hand, who broke the seal
and read it with surprise. "This seems to be some jest," he said,
"and a very dull one."

"It came from no jesting person," said Mr. Sampson.

"From whom then did it come?" demanded Mannering.

The Dominie, who often displayed some delicacy of recollection in
cases where Miss Bertram had an interest, remembered the painful
circumstances connected with Meg Merrilies, looked at the young
ladies, and remained silent. "We will join you at the tea-table in
an instant, Julia," said the Colonel; "I see that Mr. Sampson
wishes to speak to me alone.--And now they are gone, what, in
heaven's name, Mr. Sampson, is the meaning of all this?"

"It may be a message from Heaven," said the Dominie, "but it came
by Beelzebub's postmistress. It was that witch, Meg Merrilies, who
should have been burned with a tar-barrel twenty years since, for a
harlot, thief, witch, and gipsy."

"Are you sure it was she?" said the Colonel with great interest.

"Sure, honoured sir?--Of a truth she is one not to be
forgotten--the like o' Meg Merrilies is not to be seen in any
land."

The Colonel paced the room rapidly, cogitating with himself. "To
send out to apprehend her--but it is too distant to send to
Mac-Morlan, and Sir Robert Hazlewood is a pompous coxcomb; besides
the chance of not finding her upon the spot, or that the humour of
silence that seized her, before may again return;--no, I will not,
to save being thought a fool, neglect the course she points out.
Many of her class set out by being impostors, and end by becoming
enthusiasts, or hold a kind of darkling conduct between both lines,
unconscious almost when they are cheating themselves, or when
imposing on others.--Well, my course is a plain one at any rate;
and if my efforts are fruitless, it shall not be owing to
over-jealousy of my own character for wisdom."

With this he rang the bell, and ordering Barnes into his private
sitting-room, gave him some orders, with the result of which the
reader may be made hereafter acquainted. We must now take up
another adventure, which is also to be woven into the story of this
remarkable day.

Charles Hazlewood had not ventured to make a visit at Woodbourne
during the absence of the Colonel. Indeed Mannering's whole
behaviour had impressed upon him an opinion that this would be
disagreeable; and such was the ascendency which the successful
soldier and accomplished gentleman had attained over the young
man's conduct, that in no respect would he have ventured to offend
him. He saw, or thought he saw, in Colonel Mannering's general
conduct, an approbation of his attachment to Miss Bertram. But
then he saw still more plainly the impropriety of any attempt at a
private correspondence, of which his parents could not be supposed
to approve, and he respected this barrier interposed betwixt them,
both on Mannering's account, and as he was the liberal and zealous
protector of Miss Bertram. "No," said he to himself, "I will not
endanger the comfort of my Lucy's present retreat, until I can
offer her a home of her own."

With this valorous resolution, which he maintained, although his
horse, from constant habit, turned his head down the avenue of
Woodbourne, and although he himself passed the lodge twice every
day, Charles Hazlewood withstood a strong inclination to ride down,
just to ask how the young ladies were, and whether he could be of
any service to them during Colonel Mannering's absence. But on the
second occasion he felt the temptation so severe, that he resolved
not to expose himself to it a third time; and, contenting himself
with sending hopes and inquiries, and so forth, to Woodbourne, he
resolved to make a visit long promised to a family at some
distance, and to return in such time as to be one of the earliest
among Mannering's visitors, who should congratulate his safe
arrival from his distant and hazardous expedition to Edinburgh.
Accordingly, he made out his visit, and having arranged matters so
as to be informed within a few hours after Colonel Mannering
reached home, he finally resolved to take leave of the friends with
whom he had spent the intervening time, with the intention of
dining at Woodbourne, where he was in a great measure domesticated;
and this (for he thought much more deeply on the subject than was
necessary) would, he flattered himself, appear a simple, natural,
and easy mode of conducting himself.

Fate, however, of which lovers make so many complaints, was, in
this case, unfavourable to Charles Hazlewood. His horse's shoes
required an alteration, in consequence of the fresh weather having
decidedly commenced. The lady of the house, where he was a
visitor, chose to indulge in her own room till a very late
breakfast hour. His friend also insisted on showing him a litter
of puppies, which his favourite pointer bitch had produced that
morning. The colours had occasioned some doubts about the
paternity, a weighty question of legitimacy, to the decision of
which Hazlewood's opinion was called in as arbiter between his
friend and his groom, and which inferred in its consequences, which
of the litter should be drowned, which saved. Besides, the Laird
himself delayed our young lover's departure for a considerable
time, endeavouring, with long and superfluous rhetoric, to
insinuate to Sir Robert Hazlewood, through the medium of his son,
his own particular ideas respecting the line of a meditated
turnpike road. It is greatly to the shame of our young lover's
apprehension, that after the tenth reiterated account of the
matter, he could not see the advantage to be obtained by the
proposed road passing over the Lang-hirst, Windyknowe, the
Goodhouse-park, Hailziecroft, and then crossing the river at
Simon's Pool, and so by the road to Kippletringan; and the less
eligible line pointed out by the English surveyor, which would go
clear through the main enclosures at Hazlewood, and cut within a
mile, or nearly so, of the house itself, destroying the privacy and
pleasure, as his informer contended, of the grounds.

In short, the adviser (whose actual interest was to have the bridge
built as near as possible to a farm of his own) failed in every
effort to attract young Hazlewood's attention, until he mentioned
by chance that the proposed line was favoured by "that fellow
Glossin," who pretended to take a lead in the county. On a sudden
young Hazlewood became attentive and interested; and having
satisfied himself which was the line that Glossin patronised,
assured his friend it should not be his fault if his father did not
countenance any other instead of that. But these various
interruptions consumed the morning. Hazlewood got on horseback at
least three hours later than he intended, and, cursing fine ladies,
pointers, puppies, and turnpike acts of parliament, saw himself
detained beyond the time when he could, with propriety, intrude
upon the family at Woodbourne.

He had passed, therefore, the turn of the road which led to that
mansion, only edified by the distant appearance of the blue smoke,
curling against the pale sky of the winter evening, when he thought
he beheld the Dominie taking a footpath for the house through the
woods. He called after him, but in vain; for that honest
gentleman, never the most susceptible of extraneous impressions,
had just that moment parted from Meg Merrilies, and was too deeply
wrapt up in pondering upon her vaticinations, to make any answer to
Hazlewood's call. He was, therefore, obliged to let him proceed
without inquiry after the health of the young ladies, or, any other
fishing question, to which he might, by good chance, have had an
answer returned wherein Miss Bertram's name might have been
mentioned. All cause for haste was now over, and, slackening the
reins--upon his horse's neck, he permitted the animal to ascend at
his own leisure the steep sandy track between two high banks,
which, rising to a considerable height, commanded, at length, an
extensive view of the neighbouring country.

Hazlewood was, however, so far from eagerly looking. forward to
this prospect, though it had the recommendation that great part of
the land was his father's, and must necessarily be his own, that
his head still turned backward towards the chimneys of Woodbourne,
although at every step his horse made the difficulty of employing
his eyes in that direction become greater. From the reverie in
which he was sunk, be was suddenly roused by a voice too harsh to
be called female, yet too shrill for a man :-" What's kept you on
the road sae lang?--maun ither folk do your wark?"

He looked up; the spokeswoman was very tall, had a voluminous
handkerchief rolled round her head, grizzled hair flowing in
elf-locks from beneath it, a long red cloak, and a staff in her
band, headed with a sort of spear-point--it was, in short, Meg
Merrilies. Hazlewood had never seen this remarkable figure before;
he drew up his reins in astonishment at her appearance, and made a
full stop. "I think," continued she, "they that hae taen interest
in the house of Ellangowan suld sleep nane this night; three men
hae been seeking ye, and you are gaun hame to sleep in your
bed--d'ye think if the lad-bairn fa's, the sister will do weel?
na. na!"

"I don't understand you, good woman," said Hazlewood . "If you
speak of Miss--I mean of any of the late Ellangowan family, tell me
what I can do for them."

"Of the late Ellangowan family?" she answered with great vehemence;
"of the late Ellangowan family! and when was there ever, or when
will there ever be, a family of Ellangowan, but bearing the gallant
name of the bauld Bertram?"

"But what do you mean, good woman?"

"I am nae good woman--a' the country kens I am bad eneugh, and
baith they and I may be sorry eneugh that I am nae better. But I
can do what good women canna, and daurna do. I can do what would
freeze the blood o' them that is bred in biggit wa's
[*Built-walls] for naething but to bind bairns' heads, and to hap
them in the cradle. Hear me--the guard's drawn off at the
Custom-house at Portanferry, and it's brought up to Hazlewood House
by your father's orders, because he thinks his house is to be
attacked this night by the smugglers;--there's naebody means to
touch his house; he has gude blood and gentle blood--I say little
o' him for himself, but there's naebody thinks him worth meddling
wi'. Send the horsemen back to their post, cannily [*Cautiously]
and quietly--see an they winna hae wark the night--ay will
they--the guns will flash and the swords will glitter in the braw
moon."

"Good God! what do you mean?" said Hazlewood; "your words and
manner would persuade me you are mad, and yet there is a strange
combination in what you say."

"I am not mad!" exclaimed the gipsy, "I have been imprisoned for
mad--scourged for mad--banished for mad--but mad I am not. Hear
ye, Charles Hazlewood of Hazlewood : d'ye bear malice against him
that wounded you?"

"No, dame, God forbid; my arm is quite well, and I have always said
the shot was discharged by accident. I should be glad to tell the
young man so himself."

"Then do what I bid ye," answered Meg Merrilies, "and ye'll do him
mair gude than ever he did you ill; for if he was left to his
ill-wishers he would be a bloody corpse ere morn, or a banished
man--but there's ane abune [*Above] a'.--Do as I bid you; send
back the soldiers to Portanferry. There's nae mair fear o'
Hazlewood House than there's o' Cruffelfell." And she vanished with
her usual celerity of pace.

It would seem that the appearance of this female, and the mixture
of frenzy and enthusiasm in her manner, seldom failed to produce
the strongest impression upon those whom she addressed. Her words,
though wild, were too plain and intelligible for actual madness,
and yet too vehement and extravagant for sober-minded
communication. She seemed acting under the influence of an
imagination rather strongly excited than deranged; and it is
wonderful how palpably the difference, in such cases, is impressed
upon the mind of the auditor. This may account for the attention
with which her strange and mysterious hints were heard and acted
upon. It is certain, at least, that young Hazlewood was strongly
impressed by her sudden appearance and imperative tone. He rode to
Hazlewood at a brisk pace. It had been dark fort some time before
he reached the house, and on his arrival there, he saw a
confirmation of what the sibyl had hinted.

Thirty dragoon horses stood under a shed near the offices, with
their bridles linked together. Three or four soldiers attended as
a guard, while others stamped up and down with their long
broadswords and heavy boots in front of the house. Hazlewood asked
a non-commissioned officer from whence they came?

"From Portanferry."

"Had they left any guard there?"

"No; they had been drawn off by order of Sir Robert Hazlewood for
defence of his house, against an attack--which was threatened by
the smugglers."

Charles Hazlewood instantly went in quest of his father, and,
having paid his respects to him upon his return, requested to know
upon what account he had thought it necessary to send for a
military escort. Sir Robert assured his son in reply, that from
the information, intelligence, and tidings, which had been
communicated to, and laid before him, he had the deepest reason to
believe, credit, and be convinced, that a riotous assault would
that night be attempted and perpetrated against Hazlewood House, by
a set of smugglers, gipsies, and other desperadoes.

"And what, my dear sir," said his son, "should direct the fury of
such persons against ours rather than any other house in the
country?"

"I should rather think, suppose, and be of opinion, sir," answered
Sir Robert, "with deference to your wisdom and experience, that on
these occasions and times, the vengeance of such persons is
directed or levelled against the most important and distinguished
in point of rank, talent, birth, and situation, who have checked,
interfered with, and discountenanced their unlawful and illegal and
criminal actions or deeds."

Young Hazlewood, who knew his father's foible answered, that the
cause of his surprise did not lie where Sir Robert apprehended, but
that he only wondered they should think of attacking a house where
there were so many servants, and 'where a signal to the
neighbouring tenants could call in such strong assistance; and
added that he doubted much whether the reputation of the family
would not in some degree suffer from calling soldiers from their
duty at the Custom-house, to protect them, as if they were not
sufficiently strong to defend themselves upon any ordinary
occasion. He even hinted, that in case their house's enemies
should observe that this precaution had been taken unnecessarily,
there would be no end of their sarcasms.

Sir Robert Hazlewood was rather puzzled at this intimation, for,
like most dull men, he heartily hated and feared ridicule. He
gathered himself up, and looked with a sort of pompous
embarrassment, as if he wished to be thought to despise the opinion
of the public, which in reality he dreaded.

"I really should have thought," he said, "that the injury which had
already been aimed at my house in your person, being the next heir
and representative of the Hazlewood family, failing me--I should
have thought and believed, I say, that this would have justified me
sufficiently in the eyes of the most respectable and the greater
part of the people, for taking such precautions as are calculated
to prevent and impede a repetition of outrage.--"

"Really, sir," said Charles, "I must remind you of what I have
often said before, that I am positive the discharge of the piece
was accidental."

"Sir, it was not accidental," said his father angrily but you will
be wiser than your elders."

"Really, sir," replied Hazlewood, "in what so intimately concerns
myself--"

"Sir, it does not concern you but in a very secondary degree--
that is, it does not concern you, as a giddy young fellow, who
takes pleasure in contradicting his father; but it concerns the
country, sir; and the county, sir; and the public, sir; and the
kingdom of Scotland, in so far as the interest of the Hazlewood
family, sir, is committed, and interested, and put in peril, in,
by, and through you, sir. And the fellow is in safe custody, and
Mr. Glossin thinks--"

"Mr. Glossin, sir?"

"Yes, sir, the gentleman who has purchased Ellangowan--you know who
I mean, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir," answered the young man, "but I should hardly have
expected to hear you quote such authority. Why, this fellow--all
the world knows him to be sordid, mean, tricking; and I suspect him
to be worse. And you yourself, my dear sir, when did you call such
a person a gentleman in your life before?"

"Why, Charles, I did not mean gentleman in the precise sense and
meaning, and restricted and proper use, to which, no doubt, the
phrase ought legitimately to be confined; but I meant to use it
relatively, as marking something of that state to which he has
elevated and raised himself--as designing, in short, a decent and
wealthy and estimable sort of a person."

"Allow me to ask, sir," said Charles, "if it was by this man's
orders that the guard was drawn from Portanferry?"

"Sir," replied the Baronet, "I do apprehend that Mr. Glossin would
not presume to give orders, or even an opinion, unless asked, in a
matter in which Hazlewood House and the house of Hazlewood--meaning
by the one this mansion-house of my family, and by the other,
typically, metaphorically, and parabolically, the family itself--I
say then where the house of Hazlewood, or Hazlewood House, was so
immediately concerned."

"I presume, however, sir," said the son, "this Glossin approved of
the proposal?"

"Sir," replied his father, "I thought it decent and right and
proper to consult him as the nearest magistrate, as soon as report
of the intended outrage reached my ears; and although he declined,
out of deference and respect, as became our relative situations, to
concur in the order, yet he did entirely approve of my
arrangement."

At this moment a horse's feet were heard coming very fast up the
avenue. In a few minutes the door opened, and Mr. Mac-Morlan
presented himself. "I am under great concern to intrude, Sir
Robert, but--"

"Give me leave, Mr. Mac-Morlan," said Sir Robert, with a gracious
flourish of welcome; "this is no intrusion, sir; for your situation
as Sheriff-substitute calling upon you to attend to the peace of
the county (and you, doubtless, feeling yourself particularly
called upon to protect Hazlewood House), you have an acknowledged,
and admitted, and undeniable right, sir, to enter the house of the
first gentleman in Scotland, uninvited--always presuming you to be
called there by the duty of your office."

"It is indeed the duty of my office," said Mac-Morlan, who waited
with impatience an opportunity to speak, "that makes me an
intruder."

"No intrusion!" reiterated the Baronet, gracefully waving his
hand.

"But permit me to say, Sir Robert," said the Sheriff-substitute, "I
do not come with the purpose of remaining here, but to recall these
soldiers to Portanferry, and to assure you that I will answer for
the safety of your house."

"To withdraw the guard from Hazlewood House!" exclaimed the
proprietor in mingled displeasure and surprise; "and you will be
answerable for it! And, pray, who are you, sir, that I should take
your security, and caution, and pledge, official or personal, for
the safety of Hazlewood House?--I think, sir, and believe, sir,
and am of opinion, sir, that if any one of these family pictures
were deranged, or destroyed, or injured, it would be difficult for
me to make up the loss upon the guarantee which you so obligingly
offer me."

"In that case I shall be sorry for it, Sir Robert," answered the
downright Mac-Morlan; "but I presume I may escape the pain of
feeling my conduct the cause of such irreparable loss, as I can
assure you there will be no attempt upon Hazlewood House whatever,
and I have received information which induces me to suspect that
the rumour was put afloat merely in order to occasion the removal
of the soldiers from Portanferry. And under this strong belief and
conviction, I must exert my authority as sheriff and chief
magistrate of police, to order the whole, or greater part of them,
back again. I regret much, that by my accidental absence, a good
deal of delay has already taken place, and we shall not now reach
Portanferry until it is late."

As Mr. Mac-Morlan was the superior magistrate, and expressed
himself peremptory in the purpose of acting as such, the Baronet,
though highly offended, could only say, "Very well, sir, it is very
well. Nay, sir, take them all with you--I am far from desiring any
to be left here, sir. We, sir, can protect ourselves, sir. But
you will have the goodness to observe, sir, that you are acting on
your own proper risk, sir, and peril, sir, and responsibility, sir,
if anything shall happen or befall to Hazlewood House, sir, or the
inhabitants, sir, or to the furniture and paintings, sir."

"I am acting to the best of my judgment and information, Sir
Robert," said Mac-Morlan, "and I must pray of you to believe so,
and to pardon me accordingly. I beg you to observe it is no time
for ceremony--it is already very late."

But Sir Robert, without deigning to listen to his apologies,
immediately employed himself with much parade in arming and
arraying his domestics. Charles Hazlewood longed to accompany the
military, which were about to depart for Portanferry, and which
were now drawn up and mounted by direction and under the guidance
of Mr. Mac-Morlan, as the civil magistrate. But it would have
given just pain and offence to his father to have left him at a
moment when he conceived himself and his mansion-house in danger.
Young Hazlewood therefore gazed from a window with suppressed
regret and displeasure, until he heard the officer give the word of
command--"From the right to the front, by files, m-a-rch. Leading
file, to the right wheel--Trot."--The whole party of soldiers then
getting into a sharp and uniform pace, were soon lost among the
trees, and the noise of the hoofs died speedily away in the
distance.



CHAPTER XLVIII.

  W!' coulters [*The fore-iron of a plough.] and wi'
  forehammers We garr'd [*Made] the bars bang merrily, Until
  we came to the inner prison where Willie O, Kinmont he did
  lie.           Old Border Ballad.

We return to Portanferry, and to Bertram and his honest-hearted
friend, whom we left most innocent inhabitants of a place built for
the guilty. The slumbers of the farmer were as sound as it was
possible.

But Bertram's first heavy sleep passed away long before midnight,
nor could he again recover that state of oblivion. Added to the
uncertain and uncomfortable state of his mind, his body felt
feverish and oppressed. This was chiefly owing to the close and
confined air of the small apartment in which they slept. After
enduring for some time the broiling and suffocating feeling
attendant upon such an atmosphere, he rose to endeavour to open the
window of the apartment, and thus to procure a change of air. Alas!
the first trial reminded him that he was in jail, and that the
building being contrived for security, not comfort, the means of
procuring fresh air were not left at the disposal of the wretched
inhabitants.

Disappointed in this attempt, he stood by the unmanageable window
for some time. Little Wasp, though oppressed with the fatigue of
his journey on the preceding day, crept out of bed after his
master, and stood by him rubbing his shaggy coat against his legs,
and expressing, by a murmuring sound, the delight which he felt at
being restored to him. Thus accompanied, and waiting until the
feverish feeling which at present agitated his blood should
subside, into a desire for warmth and slumber, Bertram remained for
some time looking out upon the sea.

The tide was now nearly full, and dashed hoarse and near below the
base of the building. Now and then a large wave reached even the
barrier or bulwark which defended the foundation of the house, and
was flung upon it with greater force and noise than those which
only broke upon the sand. Far in the distance, under the indistinct
light of a hazy and often overclouded moon, the ocean rolled its
multitudinous complication of waves, crossing, bursting, and
mingling with each other.

"A wild and dim spectacle," said Bertram to himself, "like those
crossing tides of fate which have tossed me about the world from my
infancy upwards. When will this uncertainty cease, and how soon
shall I be permitted to look out for a tranquil home, where I may
cultivate in quiet, and without dread and perplexity, those arts of
peace from which my cares have been hitherto so forcibly diverted?
The ear of Fancy, it is said, can discover the voice of sea-nymphs
and tritons amid the bursting murmurs of the ocean; would that I
could do so, and that some siren or Proteus would arise from these
billows, to unriddle for me the strange maze of fate in which I am
so deeply entangled!--Happy friend!" he said, looking at the bed
where Dinmont had deposited his bulky person, "thy cares are
confined to the narrow round of a healthy and thriving occupation!
Thou canst lay them aside at pleasure, and enjoy the deep repose of
body and mind which wholesome labour has prepared for thee!"

At this moment his rejections were broken by little Wasp, who,
attempting to spring up against the window,--began to yelp and bark
most furiously. The sound reached Dinmont's ears, but without
dissipating the illusion which had transported him from this
wretched apartment to the free air of his own green hills. "Hoy,
Yarrow, man!--far yaud--far yaud!" he muttered between his teeth,
imagining, doubtless, that he was calling to his sheep-dog, and
hounding him in shepherds' phrase, against some intruders on the
grazing. The continued barking of the terrier within was answered
by the angry challenge of the mastiff in the courtyard, which had
for a long time been silent, excepting only an occasional short and
deep note, uttered when the moon shone suddenly from among the
clouds. Now, his clamour was continued and furious, and seemed to
he excited by some disturbance distinct from the barking of Wasp,
which had first given him the alarm, and which, with much trouble,
his master had contrived to still into an angry note of low
growling.

At last Bertram, whose attention was now fully awakened, conceived
that he saw a boat upon the sea, and heard in good earnest the
sound of oars and of human voices, mingling with the dash of the
billows. Some benighted fishermen, he thought, or perhaps some of
the desperate traders from the Isle of Man. They are very hardy,
however, to approach so near to the Custom-house, where there must
be sentinels. It is a large boat, like a longboat, and full of
people; perhaps it belongs to the revenue service.--Bertram was
confirmed in this last opinion, by observing that the boat made for
a little quay which ran into the sea behind the Custom-house, and
'jumping ashore one after another, the crew, to the number of
twenty hands, glided secretly up a small lane which divided the
Custom-house from the Bridewell, and disappeared from his sight,
leaving only two persons to take care of the boat.

The dash of these men's oars at first, and latterly the suppressed
sounds of their voices, had excited the wrath of the wakeful
sentinel in the courtyard, who now exalted his deep voice into such
a horrid and continuous din, that it awakened his brute master, as
savage a ban-dog as himself. His cry from a window, of "How now,
Tearum, what's the matter, sir?--down, d-n ye, down!" produced no
abatement of Tearum's vociferation, which in part prevented his
master from bearing the sounds of alarm which his ferocious
vigilance was in the act of challenging. But the mate of the
two-legged Cerberus was gifted with sharper ears than her husband.
She also was now at the window; "B-t ye, gae down and let loose the
dog," she said, "they're sporting the door of the Custom-house, and
the auld sap at Hazlewood House has ordered off the guard. But ye
hae nae mair heart, than a cat." And down the Amazon sallied to
perform the task herself, while her helpmate, more jealous of
insurrection within doors, than of storm from without, went from
cell to cell to see that the inhabitants of each were carefully
secured.

These latter sounds, with which we have made the reader acquainted,
had their origin in front of the house, and were consequently
imperfectly heard by Bertram, whose apartment, as we have already
noticed, looked from the back part of the building upon the sea. He
heard, however, a stir and tumult in the house, which did not seem
to accord with the stern seclusion of a prison at the hour of
midnight, and, connecting them with the arrival of an armed boat at
that dead hour, could not but suppose that something extraordinary
was about to take place. In this belief he shook Dinmont by the
shoulder--"Eh!--Ay!--Oh!--Ailie, woman, it's no time to get up
yet," growled the sleeping man of the mountains. More roughly
shaken, however, he gathered himself up, shook his ears, and asked,
"In the name of Providence, what's the matter?"

"That I can't tell you," replied Bertram; "but either the place is
on fire, or some extraordinary thing is about to happen. Are you
not sensible of a smell of fire? Do you not hear what a noise there
is of clashing doors within the house, and of hoarse voices,
murmurs, and distant shouts on the outside? Upon my word, I believe
something very extraordinary has taken place--Get up, for the love
of Heaven, and let us be on our guard."

Dinmont rose at the idea of danger, as intrepid and undismayed as
any of his ancestors when the beaconlight was kindled. "Odd,
Captain, this is a queer place! they winna let ye out in the day,
and they winna let ye sleep in the night. Deil, but it wad break
my heart in a fortnight. But, Lordsake, what a racket they're
making now! Odd, I wish we had some light. Wasp-Wasp, whisht,
hinny--whisht, my bonnie man, and let's hear what they're
doing.--Deil's in ye, will ye whisht?"

They sought in vain among the embers the means of lighting their
candle, and the noise without still continued. Dinmont in his turn
had recourse to the window, "Lordsake, Captain! come here.--Odd,
they hae broken the Custom-house!"

Bertram hastened to the window, and plainly saw a miscellaneous
crowd of smugglers, and blackguards of different descriptions, some
carrying lighted torches, others bearing packages and barrels down
the lane to the boat that was lying at the quay, to which two or
three other fisher-boats were now brought round. They were loading
each of these in their turn, and one or two had already put off to
seaward. "This speaks for itself," said Bertram; "but I fear
something worse has happened. Do you perceive a strong smell of
smoke, or is it my fancy?"

"Fancy?" answered Dinmont, "there's a reek like a killogie. [*A
lime-kiln.]  Odd, if they burn the Custom-house, it will catch
here, and we'll lunt [*Burn] like a tar-barrel a' thegither.--Eh!
it wad be fearsome to be burnt alive for naething, like as if ane
had been a warlock! [*witch]--Mac-Guffog, hear ye!"--roaring at
the top of his voice; "an ye wad ever hae a haill bane in your
skin, let's out, man! let's out!"

The fire began now to rise high, and thick clouds of smoke rolled
past the window, at which Bertram and Dinmont were stationed.
Sometimes, as the wind pleased, the dim shroud of vapour hid
everything from their sight; sometimes a red glare illuminated both
land and sea, and shone full on the stern and fierce figures, who,
wild with ferocious activity, were engaged in loading the boats.
The fire was at length triumphant, and spouted in jets of flame out
at each window of the burning building, while huge flakes of
flaming materials came driving on the wind against the adjoining
prison, and rolling a dark canopy of smoke over all the
neighbourhood. The shouts of a furious mob resounded far and wide;
for the smugglers, in their triumph, were joined by all the rabble
of the little town and . neighbourhood, now aroused, and in
complete agitation, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour; some
from interest in the free trade, and most from the general love of
mischief and tumult, natural to a vulgar populace.

Bertram began to be seriously anxious for their fate. There was no
stir in the house; it seemed as if the jailor had deserted his
charge, and left the prison with its wretched inhabitants to the
mercy of the conflagration which was spreading towards them. In
the meantime a new and fierce attack was heard upon the outer gate
of the Correction-house, which, battered with sledge-hammers and
crows, was soon forced. The keeper, as great a coward as a bully,
with his more ferocious wife, had fled; their servants readily
surrendered the keys. The liberated prisoners, celebrating their
deliverance with the wildest yells of joy, mingled among the mob
which had given them freedom.

In the midst of the confusion that ensued, three or four of the
principal smugglers hurried to the apartment of Bertram with
lighted torches, and armed with cutlasses and pistols. --"Der
deyvil," said the leader, "here's our mark!" and two of them seized
on Bertram, but one whispered in his ear, "Make no resistance till
you are in the street." The same individual found an instant to
say to Dinmont--"Follow our friend, an help when you see the time
come."

In the hurry of the moment, Dinmont obeyed and followed close. The
two smugglers dragged Bertram along the passage, downstairs,
through the courtyard, now illuminated by the glare of fire, and
into the narrow street to which the gate opened, where, in the
confusion, the gang were necessarily in some degree separated from
each other. A rapid noise, as of a body of horse advancing, seemed
to add to the disturbance. "Hagel and wetter, what is that?" said
the leader; "keep together, kinder, look to the prisoner."--but
in spite of his charge, the two who held Bertram were the last of
the party.

The sounds and signs of violence were heard in front. The press
became curiously agitated, while some endeavoured to defend
themselves, others to escape; shots were fired, and the glittering
broadswords of the dragoons began to appear, flashing above the
beads of the rioters. "Now," said the warning whisper of the man
who held Bertram's left arm, the same who had spoken before, "shake
off that fellow, and follow me."

Bertram, exerting his strength suddenly and effectually, easily
burst from the grasp of the man who held his collar on the right
side. The fellow attempted to draw a pistol, but was prostrated by
a blow of Dinmont's fist, which an ox could hardly have received
without the same humiliation. "Follow me quick," said the friendly
partisan, and dived through a very narrow and dirty lane which led
from the main street.

No pursuit took place. The attention of the smugglers had been
otherwise and very disagreeably engaged by the sudden appearance of
Mac-Morlan and the party of horse. The loud manly voice of the
provincial magistrate was heard proclaiming the Riot Act, and
charging "all those unlawfully assembled to disperse at their own
proper peril." This interruption would indeed have happened in time
sufficient to have prevented the attempt, had not the magistrate
received upon the road some false information, which led him to
think that the smugglers were to land at the Bay of Ellangowan.
Nearly two hours were lost in consequence of this false
intelligence, which it may be no lack of charity to suppose that
Glossin, so deeply interested in the issue of that night's daring
attempt, had contrived to throw in Mac-Morlan's way, availing
himself of the knowledge that the soldiers had left Hazlewood
House, which would soon reach an ear so anxious as his.

In the meantime, Bertram followed his guide, and was in his turn
followed by Dinmont. The shouts of the mob, the trampling of the
horses, the dropping pistol-shots, sunk more and more faintly upon
their ears; when at the end of the dark lane they found a
post-chaise with four horses. "Are you here, in God's name?" said
the guide to the postilion who drove the leaders.

"Ay, troth am I," answered Jack Jabos, "and I wish I were any gate
else."