"But, I trust," said Bertram, "I am encouraged to hope we shall all
see better days. All our wrongs shall be redressed, since Heaven
has sent me means and friends to assert my right."

"Friends indeed!" echoed the Dominie, "and sent, as you truly say,
by Him, to whom I early taught you to look up as the source of all
that is good. There is the great Colonel Mannering from the
Eastern Indies, a man of war from his birth up-wards, but who is
not the less a man of great erudition, considering his imperfect
opportunities; and there is, moreover, the great advocate Mr.
Pleydell, who is also a man of great erudition, but who descendeth
to trifles unbeseeming thereof; and there is Mr. Andrew Dinmont,
whom I do not understand to have possession of much erudition, but
who, like the patriarchs of old, is cunning in that which belongeth
to flocks and herds--Lastly, there is even I myself, whose
opportunities of collecting erudition, as they have been greater
than those of the aforesaid valuable persons, have not, if it
becomes me to speak, been pretermitted by me, in so far as my poor
faculties have enabled me to profit by them. Of a surety, little
Harry, we must speedily resume our studies. I will begin from the
foundation--yes, I will reform your education upward from the true
knowledge of English grammar, even to that of the Hebrew or
Chaldaic tongue."

The reader may observe, that, upon this occasion, Sampson was
infinitely more profuse of words than he had hitherto exhibited
himself. The reason was, that in recovering his pupil his mind
went instantly back to their original connection, and he had in his
confusion of ideas, the strongest desire in the world to resume
spelling lessons and half-text with young Bertram. This was the
more ridiculous, as towards Lucy he assumed no snob powers of
tuition. But she had grown up under his eye, and had been
gradually emancipated from his government by increase in years and
knowledge, and a latent sense of his own inferior tact in manners,
whereas his first ideas went to take up Harry pretty nearly where
he had left him. From the same feelings of reviving authority, he
indulged himself in what was to him a profusion of language; and as
people seldom speak more than usual without exposing themselves, he
gave those whom he addressed plainly to understand, that while he
deferred implicitly to the opinions and commands, if they chose to
impose them, of almost every one whom he met with, it was under an
internal conviction, that in the article of Erudition, as he
usually pronounced the word, he was infinitely superior to them all
put together. At present, however, this intimation fell upon
heedless cars, for the brother and sister were too deeply engaged
in asking and receiving intelligence concerning their former
fortunes to attend much to the worthy Dominie.

When Colonel Mannering left Bertram, he went to Julia's
dressing-room, and dismissed her attendant. "My dear sir," she
said as he entered, "you have forgot our vigils last night, and
have hardly allowed me time to comb my hair, although you must be
sensible how it stood on end at the various wonders which took
place."

"It is with the inside of your head that I have some business at
present, Julia; I will return the outside to the care of your Mrs.
Mincing in a few minutes."

"Lord, papa," replied Miss Mannering, "think how entangled all my
ideas are, and you to propose to comb them out in a few minutes! If
Mrs. Mincing were to do so in her department, she would tear half
the hair out of my head."

"Well then, tell me," said the Colonel, "where the entanglement
lies, which I will try to extricate with due gentleness!"

"Oh, everywhere," said the young lady--"the whole is a wild dream."

"Well then, I will try to unriddle it." He gave a brief sketch of
the fate and prospects of Bertram, to which Julia listened with an
interest which she in vain endeavoured to disguise--"Well,"
concluded her father, "are your ideas on the subject more
luminous?"

"More confused than ever, my dear sir," said Julia. "Here is this
young man come from India, after he had been supposed dead, like
Aboulfouaris the great voyager to his sister Canzade and his
provident brother Hour. I am wrong id the story, I
believe--Canzade was his wife--but Lucy may represent the one, and
the Dominie the other. And then this lively crack-brained Scotch
lawyer appears like a pantomime at the end of a tragedy.--And then
how delightful it will be if Lucy gets back her fortune!"

"Now I think," said the Colonel, "that the most mysterious part of
the business is, that Miss Julia Mannering, who must have known her
father's anxiety about the fate of this young man Brown, or
Bertram, as we must now call him, should have met him when
Hazlewood's accident took place, and never once mentioned to her
father a word of the matter, but suffered the search to proceed
against this young gentleman as a suspicious character and
assassin."

Julia, much of whose courage had been hastily assumed to meet the
interview with her father, was now unable to rally herself; she
hung down her head in silence, after in vain attempting to utter a
denial that she recollected Brown when she met him.

"No answer--well, Julia," continued her father, gravely but kindly,
"allow me to ask you, Is this the only time you have seen Brown
since his return from India?--still no answer. I must then
naturally suppose that it is not the first time--Still no reply.
Julia Mannering, will you have the kindness to answer me? Was it
this young man who came under your window and conversed with you
during your residence at Mervyn Hall? Julia--I command I entreat
you to be candid."

Miss Mannering raised her head. "I have been, sir--I believe I am
still very foolish--and it is perhaps more hard upon me that I must
meet this gentleman, who has been, though not the cause entirely,
yet the accomplice of my folly, in your presence."--Here she made a
full stop.

"I am to understand, then," said Mannering, "that this was the
author of the serenade at Mervyn Hall?"

There was something in this allusive change of epithet, that gave
Julia a little more courage--"He was indeed, sir; and if I am very
wrong, as I have often thought, I have some apology."

"And what is that?" answered the Colonel, speaking quick, and with
something of harshness.

"I will not venture to name it, sir--but"--She opened a small
cabinet, and put some letters into his hands; "I will give you
these, that you may see how this intimacy began, and by whom it was
encouraged."

Mannering took the packet to the window--his pride forbade a more
distant retreat--he glanced at some passages of the letters with an
unsteady eye and an agitated mind--his stoicism, however, came in
time to his aid; that philosophy, which, rooted in pride, yet
frequently bears the fruits of virtue. He returned towards his
daughter with as firm an air as his feelings permitted him to
assume.

"There is great apology for you, Julia, as far as I can judge from
a glance at these letters--you have obeyed at least one parent. Let
us adopt a Scotch proverb the Dominie quoted the other day--'Let
bygones be bygones, and fair play for the future.'--I will never
upbraid you with your past want of confidence--do you judge of my
future intentions by my actions, of which hitherto you have surely
had no reason to complain. Keep these letters--they were never
intended for my eye, and I would not willingly read more of them
than I have done, at your desire and for your exculpation. And
now, are we friends? Or rather, do you understand me?"

"O my dear, generous father," said Julia, throwing herself into his
arms, "why have I ever for an instant misunderstood you?"

"No more of that, Julia," said the Colonel; "we have both been to
blame. He that is too proud to vindicate the affection and
confidence which he conceives should be given without solicitation,
must meet much, and perhaps deserved disappointment. It is enough
that one dearest and most regretted member of my family has gone to
the grave without knowing me; let me not lose the confidence of a
child, who ought to love me if she really loves herself."

"Oh! no danger--no fear!" answered Julia; "let me but have your
approbation and my own, and there is no role you can prescribe so
severe that I will not follow."

"Well, my love," kissing her forehead, "Itrust we shall not call
upon you for anything too heroic. With respect to this young
gentleman's addresses, I expect in the first place that all
clandestine correspondence--which no young woman can entertain for
a moment without lessening herself in her own eyes, and in those of
her lover--I request, I say, that clandestine correspondence of
every kind may be given up, and that you will refer Mr. Bertram to
me for the reason. You will naturally wish to know what is to be
the issue of such a reference. In the first place, I desire to
observe this young gentleman's character more closely than
circumstances, and perhaps my own prejudices, have permitted
formerly--I should also be glad to see his birth established. Not
that I am anxious about his getting the estate of Ellangowan,
though such a subject is held in absolute indifference nowhere
except in a novel; but certainly Henry Bertram, Heir of Ellangowan,
whether possessed of the property of his ancestors or not, is a
very different person from Vanbeest Brown, the son of nobody at
all. His fathers, Mr. Pleydell tells me, are distinguished in
history as following the banners of their native princes, while our
own fought at Cressy and Poictiers. In short, I neither give nor
withhold my approbation, but I expect you will redeem past errors;
and as you can now unfortunately only have recourse to one parent,
that you will show the duty of a child, by reposing that confidence
in me, which I will say my inclination to make you happy renders a
filial debt upon your part."

The first part of this speech affected Julia a good deal; the
comparative merit of the ancestors of the Bertrams and Mannerings
excited a secret smile, but the conclusion was such as to soften a
heart peculiarly open to the feelings of generosity. "No, my dear
sir," she said, extending her hand, "receive my faith, that from
this moment you shall be the first person consulted respecting what
shall pass in future between Brown--I mean Bertram, and me; and
that no engagement shall be undertaken by me, excepting what you
shall immediately know and approve of. May I ask--if Mr. Bertram
is to continue a guest at Woodbourne?"

"Certainly," said the Colonel, "while his affairs render it
advisable."

"Then, sir, you must be sensible, considering what is already past,
that he will expect some reason for my withdrawing--I believe I
must say the encouragement, which he may think I have given."

"I expect, Julia," answered Mannering, "that he will respect my
roof, and entertain some sense perhaps of the services I am
desirous to render him, and so will not insist upon any course of
conduct of which I might have reason to complain; and I expect of
you, that you will make him sensible of what is due to both."

"Then, sir, I understand you, and you shall be implicitly obeyed."

"Thank you, my love; my anxiety (kissing her) is on your
account.--Now wipe these witnesses from your eyes, and so to
breakfast."



CHAPTER LII.

  And, Sheriff, I will engage my word to you, That I will by
  to-morrow dinner time, Send him to answer thee, or any man,
  For anything he shall he charged withal.
    Henry IV. Part I

When the several by-plays, as they may be termed, had taken place
among the individuals of the Woodbourne family, as we have
intimated in the preceding chapter, the breakfast party at length
assembled, Dandie excepted, who had consulted his taste in viands,
and perhaps in society, by partaking of a cup of tea with Mrs.
Allan, just laced with two teaspoonfuls of Cogniac, and reinforced
with various slices from a huge round of beef. He had a kind of
feeling that he could eat twice as much, and speak twice as much,
with this good dame and Barnes, as with the grand folk in the
parlour. Indeed, the meal of this less distinguished party was
much more mirthful than that in the higher circle, where there was
an obvious air of constraint on the greater part of the
assistants. Julia dared not raise her voice in asking Bertram if
he chose another cup of tea. Bertram felt embarrassed while eating
his toast-and-butter under the eye of Mannering. Lucy, while she
indulged to the uttermost her affection for her recovered brother,
began to think of the quarrel betwixt him and Hazlewood. The
Colonel felt the painful anxiety natural to a proud mind, when it
deems its slightest action subject for a moment to the watchful
construction of others. The lawyer, while sedulously buttering his
roll, had an aspect of unwonted gravity, arising, perhaps, from the
severity of his morning studies. As for the Dominie, his state of
mind was ecstatic!--He looked at Bertram--he looked at Lucy--he
whimpered--he sniggled--he grinned--he committed all manner of
solecisms in point of form--poured the whole cream (no unlucky
mistake) upon the plate of porridge, which was his own usual
breakfast--threw the slops of what he called his "crowning dish of
tea" into the sugar-dish instead of the slop-basin, and concluded
with spilling the scalding liquor upon old Plato, the Colonel's
favourite spaniel, who received the libation with a howl that did
little honour to his philosophy.

The Colonel's equanimity was rather shaken by this last blunder.
"Upon my word, my good friend, Mr. Sampson, you forget the
difference between Plato and Zenocrates."

"The former was chief of the Academics, the latter of the Stoics,"
said the Dominie, with some scorn of the supposition.

"Yes, my dear sir, but it was Zenocrates, not Plato, who denied
that pain was an evil."

"I should have thought," said Pleydell, "that very respectable
quadruped, which is just now limping out of the room upon three of
his four legs, was rather of the Cynic school."

"Very well hit off--But here comes an answer from Mac-Morlan."

It was unfavourable. Mrs. Mac-Morlan sent her respectful
compliments, and her husband had been, and was, detained, by some
alarming disturbances which had taken place the preceding night at
Portanferry, and the necessary investigation which they had
occasioned.

"What's to be done now, counsellor?" said the Colonel to Pleydell.

"Why, I wish we could have seen Mac-Morlan," said the counsellor,
"who is a sensible fellow himself, and would besides have acted
under my advice. But there is little harm. Our friend here must
be made sui juris--he is at present an escaped prisoner; the law
has an awkward claim upon him; he must be placed rectus in curia,
that is the first object. For which purpose, Colonel, I will
accompany you in your carriage down to Hazlewood House. The
distance is not great; we will offer our bail; and I am confident I
can easily show Mr.--I beg his pardon--Sir Robert Hazlewood, the
necessity of receiving it."

"With all my heart," said the Colonel and, ringing the bell, gave
the necessary orders. "And what is next to be done?"

"We must get hold of Mac-Morlan, and look out for more proof."

"Proof!" said the Colonel, "the thing is as clear as daylight; here
are Mr. Sampson and Miss Bertram, and you yourself, at once
recognise the young gentleman as his father's image; and he himself
recollects all the very peculiar circumstances preceding his
leaving this country--What else is necessary to conviction?"

"To moral conviction nothing more, perhaps," said the experienced
lawyer, "but for legal proof a great deal. Mr. Bertram's
recollections are his own recollections merely, and therefore are
not evidence in his own favour; Miss Bertram, the learned Mr.
Sampson, and I, can only say, what every one who knew the late
Ellangowan will readily agree in, that this gentleman is his very
picture--But that will not make him Ellangowan's son, and give him
the estate."

"And what will do so?" said the Colonel.

"Why, we must have a distinct probation. There are these
gipsies,--but then, alas! they are almost infamous in the eye of
law--scarce capable of bearing evidence, and Meg Merrilies utterly
so, by the various accounts which she formerly gave of the matter,
and her impudent denial of all knowledge of the fact when I myself
examined her respecting it."

"What must be done then?" asked Mannering.

"We must try," answered the legal sage, "what proof can be got at
in Holland, among the persons by whom our young friend was
educated.--But then the fear of being called in question for the
murder of the gauger may make them silent; or if they speak, they
are either foreigners, or outlawed smugglers. In short, I see
doubts."

"Under favour, most learned and honoured sir," said the Dominie,
"I trust HE, who hath restored little Harry Bertram to his friends,
will not leave His own work imperfect."

"I trust so too, Mr. Sampson," said Pleydell; "but we must use the
means; and I am afraid we shall have more difficulty in procuring
them than I at first thought.--But a faint heart never won a fair
lady--and, by the way (apart to Miss Mannering, while Bertram was
engaged with his sister), there's a vindication of Holland for you!
what smart fellows do you think Leyden and Utrecht must send forth,
when such a very genteel and handsome young man comes from the
paltry schools of Middleburgh?"

"Of a verity," said the Dominie, jealous of the reputation of the
Dutch seminary,--"of a verity, Mr. Pleydell, but I make it known to
you that I myself laid the foundation of his education."

"True, my dear Dominie," answered the advocate, "that accounts for
his proficiency in the graces, without question--but here comes
your carriage, Colonel. Adieu, young folks: Miss Julia, keep your
heart till I come back again--let there be nothing done to
prejudice my right, whilst I am non volens agere."

Their reception at Hazlewood House was more cold and formal than
usual; for in general the Baronet expressed great respect for
Colonel Mannering, and Mr. Pleydell, besides being a man of good
family and of high general estimation, was Sir Robert's old
friend. But now he seemed dry and embarrassed in his manner. "He
would willingly," he said, "receive bail, notwithstanding that the
offence had been directly perpetrated, committed, and done, against
young Hazlewood of Hazlewood; but the young man had given himself a
fictitious description, and was altogether that sort of person, who
should not be liberated, discharged, or let loose upon society; and
therefore--"

"I hope, Sir Robert Hazlewood," said the Colonel, you do not mean
to doubt my word, when I assure you that he served under me as a
cadet in India?"

"By no means or account whatsoever. But you call him a cadet; now
he says, avers, and upholds, that he was a captain, or held a
troop in your regiment."

"He was promoted since I gave up the command."

"But you must have heard of it?"

"No. I returned on account of family circumstances from India, and
have not since been solicitous to hear particular news from the
regiment; the name of Brown, too, is so common, that I might have
seen his promotion in the Gazette without noticing it. But a day
or two will bring letters from his commanding officer."

"But I am told and informed, Mr. Pleydell," answered Sir Robert,
still hesitating, "that he does not mean to abide by this name of
Brown, but is to set up a claim to the estate of Ellangowan, under
the name of Bertram."

"Ay, who says that?" said the counsellor.

"Or," demanded the soldier, "whoever says so, does that give a
right to keep him in prison?"

"Hush, Colonel," said the lawyer; "I am sure you would not, any
more than I, countenance him, if he prove an impostor. --And,
among friends, who informed you of this, Sir Robert?"

"Why, a person, Mr. Pleydell," answered the Baronet, "who is
peculiarly interested in investigating, sifting, and clearing out
this business to the bottom--you will excuse my being more
particular."

"Oh, certainly," replied Pleydell--"well, and he says--"

"He says that it is whispered about among tinkers, gipsies, and
other idle persons, that there is such a plan as I mentioned to
you, and that this young man, who is a bastard or natural son of
the late Ellangowan, is pitched upon as the impostor, from his
strong family likeness."

"And was there such a natural son, Sir Robert?" demanded the
counsellor.

"Oh, certainly, to my own positive knowledge. Ellangowan had him
placed as cabin-boy or powder-monkey on board an armed sloop or
yacht belonging to the revenue, through the interest of the late
Commissioner Bertram, a kinsman of his own."

"Well, Sir Robert," said the lawyer, taking the word out of the
mouth of the impatient soldier--"you have told me news, I shall
investigate them, and it I find them true, certainly Colonel
Mannering and I will not countenance this young man. In the
meanwhile, as we are all willing to make him forthcoming, to answer
all complaints against him, I do assure you, you will act most
illegally, and incur heavy responsibility, if you refuse our bail."

"Why, Mr. Pleydell," said Sir Robert, who knew the high authority
of the counsellor's opinion, "as you must know best, and as you
promise to give up this young man--"

"If he proves an impostor," replied the lawyer, with some emphasis.

"Ay, certainly--under that condition I will take your bail; though
I must say, an obliging, well-disposed, and civil neighbour of
mine, who was himself bred to the law, gave me a hint or caution
this morning against doing so. It was from him I learned that this
youth was liberated and had come abroad, or rather had broken
prison.--But where shall we find one to draw the bail-bond?"

"Here," said the counsellor, applying himself to the bell, "send up
my clerk, Mr. Driver--it will not do my character harm if I dictate
the needful myself." It was written accordingly and signed, and,
the justice having subscribed a regular warrant for Bertram alias
Brown's discharge, the visitors took their leave.

Each threw himself into his own corner of the post-chariot, and
said nothing for some time. The Colonel first broke silence : "So
you intend to give up this poor young fellow at the first brush?"

"Who, I?" replied the counsellor "I will not give up one hair of
his head, though I should follow them to the court of last resort
in his behalf--but what signified mooting points and showing one's
hand to that old ass? Much better he should report to his prompter,
Glossin, that we are indifferent or lukewarm in the matter.
Besides, I wished to have a peep at the enemies' game."

"Indeed!" said the soldier. "Then I see there are stratagems in
law as well as war. Well, and how do you like their line of
battle?"

"Ingenious!" said Mr. Pleydell, "but I think desperate--they are
finessing too much; a common fault on such occasions."

During this discourse the carriage rolled rapidly towards
Woodbourne without anything occurring worthy of the reader's
notice, excepting their meeting with young Hazlewood, to whom the
Colonel told the extraordinary history of Bertram's reappearance,
which he heard with high delight, and then rode on before to pay
Miss Bertram his compliments on an event so happy and so
unexpected.

We return to the party at Woodbourne. After the departure of
Mannering, the conversation related chiefly to the fortunes of the
Ellangowan family, their domains, and their former power. "It was,
then, under the towers of my fathers," said Bertram, "that I landed
some days since, in circumstances much resembling those of a
vagabond? Its mouldering turrets and darksome arches even then
awakened thoughts of the deepest interest, and recollections which
I was unable to decipher. I will now visit them again with other
feelings, and, I trust, other and better hopes."

"Do not go there now," said his sister. "The house of our
ancestors is at present the habitation of a wretch as insidious as
dangerous, whose arts and villainy accomplished the ruin and broke
the heart of our unhappy father."

"You increase my anxiety," replied her brother, "to confront this
miscreant, even in the den he has constructed for himself--I think
I have seen him."

"But you must consider," said Julia, "that you are now left under
Lucy's guard and mine, and are responsible to us for all your
motions--consider I have not been a lawyer's mistress twelve hours
for nothing, and I assure you it would be madness to attempt to go
to Ellangowan just now.--The utmost to which I can consent is, that
we shall walk in a body to the head of the Woodbourne avenue, and
from that perhaps we may indulge you with our company as far as a
rising ground in the common, whence your eyes may be blessed with a
distant prospect of those gloomy towers, which struck so strongly
your sympathetic imagination."

The party was speedily agreed upon; and the ladies, having taken
their cloaks, followed the route proposed, under the escort of
Captain Bertram. It was a pleasant winter morning, and the cool
breeze served only to freshen, not to chill, the fair walkers. A
secret though unacknowledged bond of kindness combined the two
ladies, and Bertram, now hearing the interesting accounts of his
own family, now communicating his adventures in Europe and in
India, repaid the pleasure which he received. Lucy felt proud of
her brother, as well from the bold and manly turn of his
sentiments, as from the dangers he had encountered, and the spirit
with which he had surmounted them. And Julia, while she pondered
on her father's words, could not help entertaining hopes, that the
independent spirit which had seemed to her father presumption in
the humble and plebeian Brown, would have the grace of courage,
noble bearing, and high blood, in the far-descended heir of
Ellangowan.

They reached at length the little eminence or knoll upon the
highest part of the common, called Gibbie's-knowe--a spot
repeatedly mentioned in this history, as being on the skirts of the
Ellangowan estate. It commanded a fair variety of hill and dale,
bordered with natural woods, whose naked boughs at this season
relieved the general colour of the landscape with a dark purple
hue; while in other places the prospect was more formally
intersected by lines of plantation, where the Scotch firs displayed
their variety of dusky green. At the distance of two or three
miles lay the bay of Ellangowan, its waves rippling under the
influence of the western breeze. The towers of the ruined castle,
seen high over every object in the neighbourhood, received--a
brighter colouring from the wintry sun.

"There," said Lucy Bertram, pointing them out in the distance,
"there is the seat of our ancestors. God knows, my dear brother,
I do not covet in your behalf the extensive power which the lords
of these ruins are said to have possessed so long, and sometimes to
have used so ill. But, oh that I might see you in possession of
such relics of their fortune as should give you an honourable
independence, and enable you to stretch your hand for the
protection of the old and destitute dependants of our family, whom
our poor father's death--"

"True, my dearest Lucy," answered the young heir of Ellangowan;
"and I trust, with the assistance of Heaven, which has so far
guided us, and with that of these good friends, whom their own
generous hearts have interested in my behalf, such a consummation
of my hard adventures is now not unlikely.--But as a soldier, I
must look with some interest upon that worm-eaten hold of ragged
stone; and if this undermining scoundrel, who is now in possession,
dare to displace a pebble of it--"

He was here interrupted by Dinmont, who came hastily after them up
the road, unseen till he was near the party :--"Captain, Captain!
ye're wanted--Ye're wanted by her ye ken o'."

And immediately Meg Merrilies, as if emerging out of the earth,
ascended from the hollow way, and stood before them. "I sought ye
at the house," she said, "and found but him (pointing to Dinmont),
but ye are right, and I was wrang. It is here we should meet, on
this very spot, where my eyes last saw your father. Remember your
promise, and follow me."


CHAPTER LIII.

  To hail the king in seemly sort The ladie was full fain;
  But King Arthur, all sore amazed, No answer made again.
  'What wight art thou," the ladie said "That will not speak to me?
  Sir, I may chance to ease thy pain, Though I be foul to see."
    The Marriage of Sir Gawaine.

The fairy bride of Sir Gawaine, while under the influence of the
spell of her wicked stepmother, was more decrepit probably, and
what is commonly called more ugly, than Meg Merrilies; but I doubt
if she possessed that wild sublimity which an excited imagination
communicated to features, marked and expressive in their own
peculiar character, and to the gestures of a form, which, her sex
considered, might be termed gigantic. Accordingly, the Knights of
the Round Table did not recoil with more terror from the apparition
of the loathly lady placed between "an oak and a green holly," than
Lucy Bertram and Julia Mannering did from the appearance of this
Galwegian sibyl upon the common of Ellangowan.

"For God's sake," said Julia, pulling out her purse, give that
dreadful woman something, and bid her go away."

"I cannot," said Bertram "I must not offend her."

"What keeps you here?" said Meg, exalting the harsh and rough tones
of her hollow voice; "why do you not follow?--Must your hour call
you twice?--Do you remember your oath? --were it at kirk or
market, wedding or burial,"--and she held high her skinny
forefinger in a menacing attitude.

Bertram turned round to his terrified companions. "Excuse me for a
moment; I am engaged by a promise to follow this woman."

"Good heavens! engaged to a madwoman?" said Julia.--

"Or to a gipsy, who has her band in the wood ready to murder you!"
said Lucy.

"That was not spoken like a bairn of Ellangowan," said Meg,
frowning upon Miss Bertram. "It is the ill-doers are
ill-dreaders."

"In short, I must go," said Bertram, "it is absolutely necessary.
wait for me five minutes on this spot."

"Five minutes?" said the gipsy; "five hours may not bring you
here again."

"Do you hear that? said Julia for Heaven's sake do not go!"

"I must, I must--Mr. Dinmont will protect you back to the house."

"No," said Meg, "he must come with you; it is for that he is here.
He maun take part wi' hand and heart; and weel his part it is, for
redding his quarrel might have cost you dear,"

"Troth, Luckie, it's very true," said the steady farmer; "and ere I
turn back frae the Captain's side, I'll show that I haena
forgotten't."

"Oh yes!" exclaimed both the ladies at once, "let Mr. Dinmont go
with you, if go you must, on this strange summons."

"Indeed I must," answered Bertram, "but you see I am safely
guarded--Adieu for a short time; go home as fast as you can."

He pressed his sister's hand, and took a yet more affectionate
farewell of Julia with his eyes. Almost stupefied with surprise
and fear, the young ladies watched with anxious looks the course of
Bertram, his companion, and their extraordinary guide. Her tall
figure moved across the wintry heath with steps so swift, so long,
and so steady, that she appeared rather to glide than to walk.
Bertram and Dinmont, both tall men, apparently scarce equalled her
in height, owing to her longer dress and high head-gear. She
proceeded straight across the common, without turning aside to the
winding path, by which passengers avoided the inequalities and
little rills that traversed it in different directions. Thus the
diminishing figures often disappeared from the eye, as they dived
into such broken ground, and again ascended to sight when they were
past the hollow. There was something frightful and unearthly, as it
were, in the rapid and undeviating course which she pursued,
undeterred by any of the impediments which usually incline a
traveller from the direct path. Her way was as straight, and
nearly as swift, as that of a bird through the air. At length they
reached those thickets of natural wood which extended from the
skirts of the common towards the glades and brook of Derncleugh,
and were there lost to the view.

"This is very extraordinary," said Lucy after a pause, and turning
round to her companion--"What can he have to do with that old hag?"

"It is very frightful," answered Julia, "and almost reminds me of
the tales of sorceresses, witches,' and evil genii, which I have
heard in India. They believe there in a fascination of the eye, by
which those who possess it control the will and dictate the motions
of their victims. What can your brother have in common with that
fearful woman, that he should leave us, obviously against his will,
to attend to her commands?"

"At least," said Lucy, "we may hold him safe from harm; for she
would never have summoned that faithful creature Dinmont, of whose
strength, courage, and steadiness Henry said so much, to attend
upon an expedition where she projected evil to the person of his
friend. And now let us go back to the house till the Colonel
returns--perhaps Bertram may be back first; at any rate, the
Colonel will judge what is to be done."

Leaning then upon each other's arm, but yet occasionally stumbling,
between fear and the disorder of their nerves, they at length
reached the head of the avenue, when they heard the tread of a
horse behind. They started, for their ears were awake to every
sound, and beheld to their great pleasure young Hazlewood. "The
Colonel will be here immediately," he said; "I galloped on before
to pay my respects to Miss Bertram, with the sincerest
congratulations upon the joyful event which has taken place in her
family. I long to be introduced to Captain Bertram, and to thank
him for the well. deserved lesson he gave to my rashness and
indiscretion."

"He has left us just now," said Lucy, "and in a manner that has
frightened us very much."

Just at that moment the Colonel's carriage drove up, and, on
observing the ladies, stopped, while Mannering and his learned
counsel alighted and joined them. They instantly communicated the
new cause of alarm.

"Meg Merrilies again!" said the Colonel; she certainly is a most
mysterious and unaccountable personage; but I think she must have
something to impart to Bertram, to which she does not mean we
should be privy."

"The devil take the bedlamite old woman," said the counsellor;
"will she not let things take their course, prout de lege, but must
always be putting in her oar in her own way?--Then, I fear from the
direction they took they are going upon the Ellangowan estate--that
rascal Glossin has shown us what ruffians he has at his disposal. I
wish honest Liddesdale may be guard sufficient."

"If you please," said Hazlewood, "Ishould be most happy to ride in
the direction which they have taken. I am so well known in the
country, that I scarce think any outrage will be offered in my
presence, and I shall keep at such a cautious distance as not to
appear to watch Meg, or interrupt any communication which she may
make."

"Upon my word," said Pleydell (aside), "to be a sprig, whom I
remember with a whey face and a satchel not so very many years ago,
I think young Hazlewood grows a fine fellow. I am more afraid of a
new attempt at legal oppression than at open violence, and from
that this young man's presence would deter both Glossin and his
understrappers.--Hie away, then, my boy--peer out--peer out--you'll
find them somewhere about Derncleugh, or very probably in Warroch
Wood."

Hazlewood turned his horse. "Come back to us to dinner,
Hazlewood," cried the Colonel. He bowed, spurred his horse, and
galloped off.

We now return to Bertram and Dinmont, who continued to follow their
mysterious guide through the woods and dingles, between the open
common and the ruined hamlet of Derncleugh. As she led the way, she
never looked back upon her followers, unless to chide them for
loitering, though the sweat, in spite of the season, poured from
their brows. At other times she spoke to herself in such broken
expressions as these--"It is to rebuild the auld house--it is to
lay the corner-stone--and did I not warn him?--I tell'd him I was
born to do it, if my father's head had been the stepping-stane, let
alane his. I was doomed--still I kept my purpose in the cage and
in the stocks;--I was banished--I kept it in an unco land;--I was
scourged--I was branded--My resolution lay deeper than scourge or
red iron could reach-and now the hour is come."

"Captain," said Dinmont, in a half whisper, "I wish she binna
uncanny! [*Mad] her words dinna seem to come in God's name, or
like other folk's. Odd, they threep [*Declare] in our country
that there are sic things."

"Don't be afraid, my friend," whispered Bertram in return.

"Fear'd! fient a haet [*Not a whit.] care I," said the dauntless
farmer, "be she witch or deevil; it's a' ane to Dandie Dinmont."

"Haud your peace, gudeman," said Meg, looking sternly over her
shoulder; "is this a time or place for you to speak, think ye?"

"But, my good friend," said Bertram, "as I have no doubt in your
good faith, or kindness, which I have experienced; you should in
return have some confidence in me--I wish to know where you are
leading us."

"There's but ae answer to that, Henry Bertram," said the
sibyl.--"Iswore my tongue should never tell, but I never said my
finger should never show. Go on and meet your fortune, or turn
back and lose it--that's a' I hae to say."

"Go on then," answered Bertram "I will ask no more questions."

They descended into the glen about the same place where Meg had
formerly parted from Bertram., She paused an instant beneath the
tall rock where he had witnessed the burial of a dead body, and
stamped upon the ground, which, notwithstanding all the care that
had been taken, showed vestiges of having been recently moved.
"Here rests ane," she said, "he'll maybe hae neibors sune."

She then moved up the brook until she came to the ruined hamlet,
where, pausing with a look of peculiar and softened interest before
one of the gables which was still standing, she said in a tone less
abrupt, though as solemn as before, "Do you see that blackit and
broken end of a shealing? [*Hut]--there my kettle boiled for forty
years--there I bore twelve buirdly sons and daughters--where are
they now?--where are the leaves that were on that auld ash-tree at
Martinmas!--the west wind has made it bare--and I'm stripped
too.--Do you see that saugh-tree?--it's but a blackened rotten
stump now--I've sat under it mony a bonnie summer afternoon, when
it hung its gay garlands ower the poppling water.--I've sat there,
and," elevating her voice, "I've held you on my knee, Henry
Bertram, and sung ye sangs of the auld barons and their bloody
wars--it will ne'er be green again, and Meg Merrilies will never
sing sangs mair, be they blithe or sad. But ye'll no forget her,
and ye'll gar big up [*Cause to be built up.] the auld wa's for
her sake?--and let somebody live there that's, ower gude to fear
them of another warld--For if ever the dead came back amang the
living. I'll be seen in this glen mony a night after these crazed
banes are in the mould."

The mixture of insanity and wild pathos with which she spoke these
last words, with her right arm, bare and extended, her left bent
and shrouded beneath the dark red drapery of her mantle, might have
been a study worthy of our Siddons herself. "And now," she said,
resuming at once the short, stern, and hasty tone which was most
ordinary to her--"let us to the wark--let us to the wark."

She then led the way to the promontory on which the Kaim of
Derncleugh was situated, produced a large key from her pocket, and
unlocked the door. The interior of this place was in better order
than formerly. "Ihave made things decent," she said; "I may be
streekit, [*Stretched out] here or night.--There will be few, few
at Meg's lykewake, [*Watching over a corpse by night.] for mony of
our folk will blame what I hae done, and am to do!"

She then pointed to a table, upon which was some cold meat,
arranged with more attention to neatness than could have been
expected from Meg's habits. "Eat," she said, "eat; ye'll need it
this night yet."

Bertram, in complaisance, ate a morsel or two and Dinmont, whose
appetite was unabated either by wonder, apprehension, or the meal
of the morning, made his usual figure as a trencherman. She then
offered each a single glass of spirits, which Bertram drank
diluted, and his companion plain.

"Will ye taste naething yourself, Luckie?" said Dinmont.

"I shall not need it," replied their mysterious hostess. "And now,"
she said, "ye maun hae arms--ye maunna gang on dry-handed--but use
them not rashly--take captive, but save life--let the law hae its
ain--he maun speak ere he die."

"Who is to be taken?--who is to speak?" said Bertram in
astonishment, receiving a pair of pistols which she offered him,
and which, upon examining, he found loaded and locked.

"The flints are gude," she said, "and the powder dry--I ken this
wark weel."

Then, without answering his questions, she armed Dinmont also with
a large pistol, and desired them to choose sticks for themselves
out of a parcel of very suspicious-looking bludgeons, which she
brought from a corner. Bertram took a stout sapling, and Dandie
selected a club which might have served Hercules himself. They
then left the hut together, and, in doing so, Bertram took an
opportunity to whisper to Dinmont, "There's something inexplicable
in all this--But we need not use these arms unless we see necessity
and lawful occasion--take care to do as you see me do."

Dinmont gave a sagacious nod; and they continued to follow, over
wet and over dry, through bog and through fallow, the footsteps of
their conductress. She guided them to the wood of Warroch by the
same track which the late Ellangowan had used when riding to
Derncleugh in quest of his child, on the miserable evening of
Kennedy's murder.

When Meg Merrilies had attained these groves, through which the
wintry sea-wind was now whistling hoarse and shrill, she seemed to
pause a moment as if to recollect the way. "We maun go the precise
track," she said, and continued to go forward, but rather in a
zigzag and involved course than according to her former steady and
direct line of motion. At length she guided them through the mazes
of the wood to a little open glade of about a quarter of an acre,
surrounded by trees and bushes, which made a wild and irregular
boundary. Even in winter it was a sheltered and snugly sequestered
spot; but when arrayed in the verdure of spring, the earth sending
forth all its wild flowers, the shrubs spreading their waste of
blossom around it, and the weeping birches, which towered over the
underwood, drooping their long and leafy fibres to intercept the
sun, it must have seemed a place for a youthful poet to study his
earliest sonnet, or a pair of lovers to exchange their first mutual
avowal of affection. Apparently it now awakened very different
recollections. Bertram's brow, when he had looked round the spot,
became gloomy and embarrassed. Meg, after uttering to herself,
"This is the very spot!" looked at him with a ghastly
side-glance,--"D'ye mind it?"

"Yes answered Bertram, "imperfectly I do."

"Ay!" pursued his guide, "on this very spot the man fell from his
horse--I was behind that bourtree-bush at the very moment. Sair,
sair he strove, and sair he cried for mercy--but he was in the
hands of them that never kenn'd the word!--Now will I show you the
further track--the last time ye travelled it was in these arms."

She led them accordingly by a long and winding passage almost
overgrown with brushwood, until, without any very perceptible
descent, they suddenly found themselves by the seaside. Meg then
walked very fast on between the surf and the rocks, until she came
to a remarkable fragment of rock detached from the rest. "Here,"
she said in a low and scarcely audible whisper, "here the corpse
was found."

"And the cave," said Bertram, in the some tone, is close beside
it--are you guiding us there?"

"Yes," said the gipsy in a decided tone. "Bend up both your
hearts--follow me as I creep in--I have placed the firewood so as
to screen you. Bide behind it for a gliff [*Little] till I say,
The hour and the man are baith come; then rin in on him, take his
arms, and bind him till the blood burst frae his finger nails."

"I will, by my soul," said Henry--"if he is the man I
suppose--Jansen?"

"Ay, Jansen, Hatteraick, and twenty mair names are his."

"Dinmont, you must stand by me now," said Bertram, "for this fellow
is a devil."

"Ye needna doubt that," said the stout yeoman--"but I wish I could
mind a bit prayer or I creep after the witch into that hole that
she's opening--It wad be a sair thing to leave the blessed sun, and
the free air, and gang and, be killed, like a tod that's run to
earth, in a dungeon like that. But, my sooth, they will be
hard-bitten terriers will worry Dandie; so, as I said, deil hae me
if I baulk you." This was uttered in the lowest tone of voice
possible. The entrance was now open. Meg crept in upon her hands
and knees, Bertram followed and Dinmont, after giving a rueful
glance toward the daylight, whose blessings he was abandoning,
brought up the rear.



CHAPTER LIV.

  --Die, prophet! in thy speech; For this, among the rest,
  was I ordained.
    Henry VI. Part III.

The progress of the Borderer, who, as we have said,--was the last
of the party, was fearfully arrested by a hand, which caught hold
of his leg as he dragged his long limbs after him in silence and
perturbation through the low and narrow entrance of the
subterranean passage. The steel heart of the bold yeoman had
well-nigh given way, and he suppressed with difficulty a shout,
which, in the defenceless posture and situation which they then
occupied, might have cost all their lives. He contented himself,
however, with extricating his foot from the grasp of the
unexpected follower. Be still," said a voice behind him, releasing
him I am a friend--Charles Hazlewood."

These words were uttered in a very low voice, but they produced
sound enough to startle Meg Merrilies, who led the van, and who,
having already gained the place where the cavern expanded, had
risen upon her feet. She began, as if to confound any listening
ear, to growl, to mutter, and to sing aloud, and at the same time
to make a bustle among some brushwood which was now heaped in the
cave.

"Here--beldam--Deyvil's kind," growled the harsh voice of Dirk
Hatteraick from the inside of his den, what makest thou there?"

"Laying the roughies [*Withered boughs.] to keep the cauld wind
frae a--you, ye desperate do-nae-good--Ye're e'en ower weel off,
and wots na; it will be otherwise soon."

"Have you brought me the brandy, and any news of my people?" said
Dirk Hatteraick.

"Here's the flask for ye. Your people-dispersed--broken--
gone--or cut to ribbands by the red-coats."

"Der Deyvil!--this coast is fatal to me."

"Ye may hae mair reason to say sae."

While this dialogue went forward, Bertram and Dinmont had both
gained the interior of the cave, and assumed an erect position. The
only light which illuminated its rugged and sable precincts was a
quantity of wood burnt to charcoal in an iron grate, such as they
use in spearing salmon by night. On these red embers Hatteraick
from time to time threw a handful of twigs or splintered wood; but
these, even when they blazed up, afforded a light much
disproportioned to the extent of the cavern; and, as its principal
inhabitant lay upon the side of the grate most remote from the
entrance, it was not easy for him to discover distinctly objects
which lay in that direction. The intruders, therefore, whose
number was now augmented unexpectedly to three, stood behind the
loosely-piled branches with little risk of discovery. Dinmont had
the sense' to keep back Hazlewood with one hand till he whispered
to Bertram, "A friend--young Hazlewood."

It was no time for following up the introduction, and they all
stood as still as the rocks around them, obscured behind the pile
of brushwood, which had been probably placed there to break the
cold wind from the sea, without totally intercepting the supply of
air. The branches. were laid so loosely above each otter, that,
looking through them towards the light of the fire-grate, they
could easily discover what passed in its vicinity, although a much
stronger degree of illumination than it afforded, would not have
enabled the persons placed near the bottom of the cave to have
descried them in the position which they occupied.

The scene, independent of the peculiar moral interest and personal
danger which attended it, had, from the effect of the light and
shade on the uncommon objects which it exhibited, an appearance
emphatically dismal. The light in the fire-grate was the dark-red
glare of charcoal in a state of ignition, relieved from time to
time by a transient flame of a more vivid or duskier light, as the
fuel with which Dirk Hatteraick fed his fire was better or worse
fitted for his purpose. Now a dark cloud of stifling smoke rose up
to the roof of the cavern, and then lighted into a reluctant and
sullen blaze, which flashed wavering up the pillar of smoke, and
was suddenly rendered brighter and more lively by some drier fuel,
or perhaps some splintered fir-timber, which at once converted the
smoke into flame. By such fitful irradiation, they could see, more
or less distinctly, the form of Hatteraick, whose savage and rugged
cast of features, now rendered yet more ferocious by the
circumstances of his situation, and the deep gloom of his mind,
assorted well with the rugged and broken vault, which rose in a
rude arch over and around him. The form of Meg Merrilies, which
stalked about him, sometimes in the light, sometimes partially
obscured in the smoke or darkness, contrasted strongly with the
sitting figure of Hatteraick as he bent over the flame, and from
his stationary posture was constantly visible to the spectator,
while that of the female flitted around, appearing or disappearing
like a spectre.