The sportsmen returned loaded with fish, upwards of one hundred
salmon having been killed within the range of their sport. The
best were selected for the use of the principal farmers, the
others divided among their shepherds, cottars, dependents, and
others of inferior rank who attended. These fish, dried in the
turf smoke of their cabins or shealings, formed a savoury addition
to the mess of potatoes, mixed with onions, which was the
principal part of their winter food. In the meanwhile a liberal
distribution of ale and whisky was made among them, besides what
was called a kettle of fish,--two or three salmon, namely, plunged
into a cauldron and boiled for their supper. Brown accompanied his
jolly landlord and the rest of his friends into the large and
smoky kitchen, where this savoury mess reeked on an oaken table,
massive enough to have dined Johnnie Armstrong and his merry-men.
All was hearty cheer and huzza, and jest and clamorous laughter,
and bragging alternately, and raillery between whiles. Our
traveller looked earnestly around for the dark countenance of the
fox-hunter; but it was nowhere to be seen.

At length he hazarded a question concerning him. 'That was an
awkward accident, my lads, of one of you, who dropped his torch in
the water when his companion was struggling with the large fish.'

'Awkward!' returned a shepherd, looking up (the same stout young
fellow who had speared the salmon); 'he deserved his paiks for't,
to put out the light when the fish was on ane's witters! I'm weel
convinced Gabriel drapped the roughies in the water on purpose; he
doesna like to see ony body do a thing better than himsell.'

'Ay,' said another, 'he's sair shamed o' himsell, else he would
have been up here the night; Gabriel likes a little o' the gude
thing as weel as ony o' us.'

'Is he of this country?' said Brown.

'Na, na, he's been but shortly in office, but he's a fell hunter;
he's frae down the country, some gate on the Dumfries side.'

'And what's his name, pray?'

'Gabriel.'

'But Gabriel what?'

'Oh, Lord kens that; we dinna mind folk's afternames muckle here,
they run sae muckle into clans.'

'Ye see, sir,' said an old shepherd, rising, and speaking very
slow, 'the folks hereabout are a' Armstrongs and
Elliots,[Footnote: See Note 5] and sic like--two or three given
names--and so, for distinction's sake, the lairds and farmers have
the names of their places that they live at; as, for example, Tam
o' Todshaw, Will o' the Flat, Hobbie o' Sorbietrees, and our good
master here o' the Charlie's Hope. Aweel, sir, and then the
inferior sort o' people, ye'll observe, are kend by sorts o' by-
names some o' them, as Glaiket Christie, and the Deuke's Davie, or
maybe, like this lad Gabriel, by his employment; as, for example,
Tod Gabbie, or Hunter Gabbie. He's no been lang here, sir, and I
dinna think ony body kens him by ony other name. But it's no right
to rin him doun ahint his back, for he's a fell fox-hunter, though
he's maybe no just sae clever as some o' the folk hereawa wi' the
waster.'

After some further desultory conversation, the superior sportsmen
retired to conclude the evening after their own manner, leaving
the others to enjoy themselves, unawed by their presence. That
evening, like all those which Brown had passed at Charlie's Hope,
was spent in much innocent mirth and conviviality. The latter
might have approached to the verge of riot but for the good women;
for several of the neighbouring mistresses (a phrase of a
signification how different from what it bears in more fashionable
life!) had assembled at Charlie's Hope to witness the event of
this memorable evening. Finding the punch-bowl was so often
replenished that there was some danger of their gracious presence
being forgotten, they rushed in valorously upon the recreant
revellers, headed by our good mistress Ailie, so that Venus
speedily routed Bacchus. The fiddler and piper next made their
appearance, and the best part of the night was gallantly consumed
in dancing to their music.

An otter-hunt the next day, and a badger-baiting the day after,
consumed the time merrily. I hope our traveller will not sink in
the reader's estimation, sportsman though he may be, when I inform
him that on this last occasion, after young Pepper had lost a
fore-foot and Mustard the second had been nearly throttled, he
begged, as a particular and personal favour of Mr. Dinmont, that
the poor badger, who had made so gallant a defence, should be
permitted to retire to his earth without farther molestation.

The farmer, who would probably have treated this request with
supreme contempt had it come from any other person, was contented
in Brown's case to express the utter extremity of his wonder.
'Weel,' he said, 'that's queer aneugh! But since ye take his part,
deil a tyke shall meddle wi' him mair in my day. We'll e'en mark
him, and ca' him the Captain's brock; and I'm sure I'm glad I can
do ony thing to oblige you,--but, Lord save us, to care about a
brock!'

After a week spent in rural sport, and distinguished by the most
frank attentions on the part of his honest landlord, Brown bade
adieu to the banks of the Liddel and the hospitality of Charlie's
Hope. The children, with all of whom he had now become an intimate
and a favourite, roared manfully in full chorus at his departure,
and he was obliged to promise twenty times that he would soon
return and play over all their favourite tunes upon the flageolet
till they had got them by heart. 'Come back again, Captain,' said
one little sturdy fellow, 'and Jenny will be your wife.' Jenny was
about eleven years old; she ran and hid herself behind her mammy.

'Captain, come back,' said a little fat roll-about girl of six,
holding her mouth up to be kissed, 'and I'll be your wife my
ainsell.'

'They must be of harder mould than I,' thought Brown, 'who could
part from so many kind hearts with indifference.' The good dame
too, with matron modesty, and an affectionate simplicity that
marked the olden time, offered her cheek to the departing guest.
'It's little the like of us can do,' she said, 'little indeed; but
yet, if there were but ony thing--'

'Now, my dear Mrs. Dinmont, you embolden me to make a request:
would you but have the kindness to weave me, or work me, just such
a grey plaid as the goodman wears?' He had learned the language
and feelings of the country even during the short time of his
residence, and was aware of the pleasure the request would confer.

'A tait o' woo' would be scarce amang us,' said the goodwife,
brightening, 'if ye shouldna hae that, and as gude a tweel as ever
cam aff a pirn. I'll speak to Johnnie Goodsire, the weaver at the
Castletown, the morn. Fare ye weel, sir! and may ye be just as
happy yoursell as ye like to see a' body else; and that would be a
sair wish to some folk.'

I must not omit to mention that our traveller left his trusty
attendant Wasp to be a guest at Charlie's Hope for a season. He
foresaw that he might prove a troublesome attendant in the event
of his being in any situation where secrecy and concealment might
be necessary. He was therefore consigned to the care of the eldest
boy, who promised, in the words of the old song, that he should
have

     A bit of his supper, a bit of his bed,

and that he should be engaged in none of those perilous pastimes
in which the race of Mustard and Pepper had suffered frequent
mutilation. Brown now prepared for his journey, having taken a
temporary farewell of his trusty little companion.

There is an odd prejudice in these hills in favour of riding.
Every farmer rides well, and rides the whole day. Probably the
extent of their large pasture farms, and the necessity of
surveying them rapidly, first introduced this custom; or a very
zealous antiquary might derive it from the times of the 'Lay of
the Last Minstrel,' when twenty thousand horsemen assembled at the
light of the beacon-fires. [Footnote: It would be affectation to
alter this reference. But the reader will understand that it was
inserted to keep up the author's incognito, as he was not likely
to be suspected of quoting his own works. This explanation is also
applicable to one or two similar passages, in this and the other
novels, introduced for the same reason.] But the truth is
undeniable; they like to be on horseback, and can be with
difficulty convinced that any one chooses walking from other
motives than those of convenience or necessity. Accordingly,
Dinmont insisted upon mounting his guest and accompanying him on
horseback as far as the nearest town in Dumfries-shire, where he
had directed his baggage to be sent, and from which he proposed to
pursue his intended journey towards Woodbourne, the residence of
Julia Mannering.

Upon the way he questioned his companion concerning the character
of the fox-hunter; but gained little information, as he had been
called to that office while Dinmont was making the round of the
Highland fairs. 'He was a shake-rag like fellow,' he said, 'and,
he dared to say, had gipsy blood in his veins; but at ony rate he
was nane o' the smaiks that had been on their quarters in the
moss; he would ken them weel if he saw them again. There are some
no bad folk amang the gipsies too, to be sic a gang,' added
Dandie; 'if ever I see that auld randle-tree of a wife again, I'll
gie her something to buy tobacco. I have a great notion she
meant me very fair after a'.'

When they were about finally to part, the good farmer held Brown
long by the hand, and at length said, 'Captain, the woo's sae weel
up the year that it's paid a' the rent, and we have naething to do
wi' the rest o' the siller when Ailie has had her new gown, and
the bairns their bits o' duds. Now I was thinking of some safe
hand to put it into, for it's ower muckle to ware on brandy and
sugar; now I have heard that you army gentlemen can sometimes buy
yoursells up a step, and if a hundred or twa would help ye on such
an occasion, the bit scrape o' your pen would be as good to me as
the siller, and ye might just take yer ain time o' settling it; it
wad be a great convenience to me.' Brown, who felt the full
delicacy that wished to disguise the conferring an obligation
under the show of asking a favour, thanked his grateful friend
most heartily, and assured him he would have recourse to his purse
without scruple should circumstances ever render it convenient for
him. And thus they parted with many expressions of mutual regard.




CHAPTER XXVII

     If thou hast any love of mercy in thee,
     Turn me upon my face that I may die.

           JOANNA BALLIE.


Our traveller hired a post-chaise at the place where he separated
from Dinmont, with the purpose of proceeding to Kippletringan,
there to inquire into the state of the family at Woodbourne,
before he should venture to make his presence in the country known
to Miss Mannering. The stage was a long one of eighteen or twenty
miles, and the road lay across the country. To add to the
inconveniences of the journey, the snow began to fall pretty
quickly. The postilion, however, proceeded on his journey for a
good many miles without expressing doubt or hesitation. It was not
until the night was completely set in that he intimated his
apprehensions whether he was in the right road. The increasing
snow rendered this intimation rather alarming, for, as it drove
full in the lad's face and lay whitening all around him, it served
in two different ways to confuse his knowledge of the country, and
to diminish the chance of his recovering the right track. Brown
then himself got out and looked round, not, it may be well
imagined, from any better hope than that of seeing some house at
which he might make inquiry. But none appeared; he could therefore
only tell the lad to drive steadily on. The road on which they
were ran through plantations of considerable extent and depth, and
the traveller therefore conjectured that there must be a
gentleman's house at no great distance. At length, after
struggling wearily on for about a mile, the post-boy stopped, and
protested his horses would not budge a foot farther; 'but he saw,'
he said, 'a light among the trees, which must proceed from a
house; the only way was to inquire the road there.' Accordingly,
he dismounted, heavily encumbered with a long great-coat and a
pair of boots which might have rivalled in thickness the seven-
fold shield of Ajax. As in this guise he was plodding forth upon
his voyage of discovery, Brown's impatience prevailed, and,
jumping out of the carriage, he desired the lad to stop where he
was by the horses, and he would himself go to the house; a command
which the driver most joyfully obeyed.

Our traveller groped along the side of the inclosure from which
the light glimmered, in order to find some mode of approaching in
that direction, and, after proceeding for some space, at length
found a stile in the hedge, and a pathway leading into the
plantation, which in that place was of great extent. This promised
to lead to the light which was the object of his search, and
accordingly Brown proceeded in that direction, but soon totally
lost sight of it among the trees. The path, which at first seemed
broad and well marked by the opening of the wood through which it
winded, was now less easily distinguishable, although the
whiteness of the snow afforded some reflected light to assist his
search. Directing himself as much as possible through the more
open parts of the wood, he proceeded almost a mile without either
recovering a view of the light or seeing anything resembling a
habitation. Still, however, he thought it best to persevere in
that direction. It must surely have been a light in the hut of a
forester, for it shone too steadily to be the glimmer of an ignis
fatuus. The ground at length became broken and declined rapidly,
and, although Brown conceived he still moved along what had once
at least been a pathway, it was now very unequal, and the snow
concealing those breaches and inequalities, the traveller had one
or two falls in consequence. He began now to think of turning
back, especially as the falling snow, which his impatience had
hitherto prevented his attending to, was coming on thicker and
faster.

Willing, however, to make a last effort, he still advanced a
little way, when to his great delight he beheld the light opposite
at no great distance, and apparently upon a level with him. He
quickly found that this last appearance was deception, for the
ground continued so rapidly to sink as made it obvious there was a
deep dell, or ravine of some kind, between him and the object of
his search. Taking every precaution to preserve his footing, he
continued to descend until he reached the bottom of a very steep
and narrow glen, through which winded a small rivulet, whose
course was then almost choked with snow. He now found himself
embarrassed among the ruins of cottages, whose black gables,
rendered more distinguishable by the contrast with the whitened
surface from which they rose, were still standing; the side-walls
had long since given way to time, and, piled in shapeless heaps
and covered with snow, offered frequent and embarrassing obstacles
to our traveller's progress. Still, however, he persevered,
crossed the rivulet, not without some trouble, and at length, by
exertions which became both painful and perilous, ascended its
opposite and very rugged bank, until he came on a level with the
building from which the gleam proceeded.

It was difficult, especially by so imperfect a light, to discover
the nature of this edifice; but it seemed a square building of
small size, the upper part of which was totally ruinous. It had,
perhaps, been the abode in former times of some lesser proprietor,
or a place of strength and concealment, in case of need, for one
of greater importance. But only the lower vault remained, the arch
of which formed the roof in the present state of the building.
Brown first approached the place from whence the light proceeded,
which was a long narrow slit or loop-hole, such as usually are to
be found in old castles. Impelled by curiosity to reconnoitre the
interior of this strange place before he entered, Brown gazed in
at this aperture. A scene of greater desolation could not well be
imagined. There was a fire upon the floor, the smoke of which,
after circling through the apartment, escaped by a hole broken in
the arch above. The walls, seen by this smoky light, had the rude
and waste appearance of a ruin of three centuries old at least. A
cask or two, with some broken boxes and packages, lay about the
place in confusion. But the inmates chiefly occupied Brown's
attention. Upon a lair composed of straw, with a blanket stretched
over it, lay a figure, so still that, except that it was not
dressed in the ordinary habiliments of the grave, Brown would have
concluded it to be a corpse. On a steadier view he perceived it
was only on the point of becoming so, for he heard one or two of
those low, deep, and hard-drawn sighs that precede dissolution
when the frame is tenacious of life. A female figure, dressed in a
long cloak, sate on a stone by this miserable couch; her elbows
rested upon her knees, and her face, averted from the light of an
iron lamp beside her, was bent upon that of the dying person. She
moistened his mouth from time to time with some liquid, and
between whiles sung, in a low monotonous cadence, one of those
prayers, or rather spells, which, in some parts of Scotland and
the north of England, are used by the vulgar and ignorant to speed
the passage of a parting spirit, like the tolling of the bell in
Catholic days. She accompanied this dismal sound with a slow
rocking motion of her body to and fro, as if to keep time with her
song. The words ran nearly thus:--

     Wasted, weary, wherefore stay,
      Wrestling thus with earth and clay?
      From the body pass away.
           Hark! the mass is singing.

     From thee doff thy mortal weed,
      Mary Mother be thy speed,
      Saints to help thee at thy need.
           Hark! the knell is ringing.

     Fear not snow-drift driving fast,
      Sleet, or hail, or levin blast.
      Soon the shroud shall lap thee fast,
      And the sleep be on thee cast
           That shall ne'er know waking.

     Haste thee, haste thee, to be gone,
      Earth flits fast, and time draws on.
      Gasp thy gasp, and groan thy groan,
           Day is near the breaking.

The songstress paused, and was answered by one or two deep and
hollow groans, that seemed to proceed from the very agony of the
mortal strife. 'It will not be,' she muttered to herself; 'he
cannot pass away with that on his mind, it tethers him here--

     Heaven cannot abide it,
      Earth refuses to hide it.  [Footnote: See Note 6.]

I must open the door'; and, rising, she faced towards the door of
the apartment, observing heedfully not to turn back her head, and,
withdrawing a bolt or two (for, notwithstanding the miserable
appearance of the place, the door was cautiously secured), she
lifted the latch, saying,

     Open lock, end strife,
      Come death, and pass life.

Brown, who had by this time moved from his post, stood before her
as she opened the door. She stepped back a pace, and he entered,
instantly recognising, but with no comfortable sensation, the same
gipsy woman whom he had met in Bewcastle. She also knew him at
once, and her attitude, figure, and the anxiety of her
countenance, assumed the appearance of the well-disposed ogress of
a fairy tale, warning a stranger not to enter the dangerous castle
of her husband. The first words she spoke (holding up her hands in
a reproving manner) were, 'Said I not to ye, Make not, meddle not?
Beware of the redding straik! [Footnote: The redding straik,
namely, a blow received by a peacemaker who interferes betwixt two
combatants, to red or separate them, is proverbially said to be
the most dangerous blow a man can receive.] You are come to no
house o' fair-strae death.' So saying, she raised the lamp and
turned its light on the dying man, whose rude and harsh features
were now convulsed with the last agony. A roll of linen about his
head was stained with blood, which had soaked also through the
blankets and the straw. It was, indeed, under no natural disease
that the wretch was suffering. Brown started back from this
horrible object, and, turning to the gipsy, exclaimed, 'Wretched
woman, who has done this?'

'They that were permitted,' answered Meg Merrilies, while she
scanned with a close and keen glance the features of the expiring
man. 'He has had a sair struggle; but it's passing. I kenn'd he
would pass when you came in. That was the death-ruckle; he's
dead.'

Sounds were now heard at a distance, as of voices. 'They are
coming,' said she to Brown; 'you are a dead man if ye had as mony
lives as hairs.' Brown eagerly looked round for some weapon of
defence. There was none near. He then rushed to the door with the
intention of plunging among the trees, and making his escape by
flight from what he now esteemed a den of murderers, but Merrilies
held him with a masculine grasp. 'Here,' she said, 'here, be still
and you are safe; stir not, whatever you see or hear, and nothing
shall befall you.'

Brown, in these desperate circumstances, remembered this woman's
intimation formerly, and thought he had no chance of safety but in
obeying her. She caused him to couch down among a parcel of straw
on the opposite side of the apartment from the corpse, covered him
carefully, and flung over him two or three old sacks which lay
about the place. Anxious to observe what was to happen, Brown
arranged as softly as he could the means of peeping from under the
coverings by which he was hidden, and awaited with a throbbing
heart the issue of this strange and most unpleasant adventure. The
old gipsy in the meantime set about arranging the dead body,
composing its limbs, and straighting the arms by its side. 'Best
to do this,' she muttered, 'ere he stiffen.' She placed on the
dead man's breast a trencher, with salt sprinkled upon it, set one
candle at the head and another at the feet of the body, and
lighted both. Then she resumed her song, and awaited the approach
of those whose voices had been heard without.

Brown was a soldier, and a brave one; but he was also a man, and
at this moment his fears mastered his courage so completely that
the cold drops burst out from every pore. The idea of being
dragged out of his miserable concealment by wretches whose trade
was that of midnight murder, without weapons or the slightest
means of defence, except entreaties, which would be only their
sport, and cries for help, which could never reach other ear than
their own; his safety entrusted to the precarious compassion of a
being associated with these felons, and whose trade of rapine and
imposture must have hardened her against every human feeling--the
bitterness of his emotions almost choked him. He endeavoured to
read in her withered and dark countenance, as the lamp threw its
light upon her features, something that promised those feelings of
compassion which females, even in their most degraded state, can
seldom altogether smother. There was no such touch of humanity
about this woman. The interest, whatever it was, that determined
her in his favour arose not from the impulse of compassion, but
from some internal, and probably capricious, association of
feelings, to which he had no clue. It rested, perhaps, on a
fancied likeness, such as Lady Macbeth found to her father in the
sleeping monarch. Such were the reflections that passed in rapid
succession through Brown's mind as he gazed from his hiding-place
upon this extraordinary personage. Meantime the gang did not yet
approach, and he was almost prompted to resume his original
intention of attempting an escape from the hut, and cursed
internally his own irresolution, which had consented to his being
cooped up where he had neither room for resistance nor flight.

Meg Merrilies seemed equally on the watch. She bent her ear to
every sound that whistled round the old walls. Then she turned
again to the dead body, and found something new to arrange or
alter in its position. 'He's a bonny corpse,' she muttered to
herself, 'and weel worth the streaking.' And in this dismal
occupation she appeared to feel a sort of professional pleasure,
entering slowly into all the minutise, as if with the skill and
feelings of a connoisseur. A long, dark-coloured sea-cloak, which
she dragged out of a corner, was disposed for a pall. The face she
left bare, after closing the mouth and eyes, and arranged the
capes of the cloak so as to hide the bloody bandages, and give the
body, as she muttered, 'a mair decent appearance.'

At once three or four men, equally ruffians in appearance and
dress, rushed into the hut. 'Meg, ye limb of Satan, how dare you
leave the door open?' was the first salutation of the party.

'And wha ever heard of a door being barred when a man was in the
dead-thraw? how d'ye think the spirit was to get awa through bolts
and bars like thae?'

'Is he dead, then?' said one who went to the side of the couch to
look at the body.

'Ay, ay, dead enough,' said another; 'but here's what shall give
him a rousing lykewake.' So saying, he fetched a keg of spirits
from a corner, while Meg hastened to display pipes and tobacco.
From the activity with which she undertook the task, Brown
conceived good hope of her fidelity towards her guest. It was
obvious that she wished to engage the ruffians in their debauch,
to prevent the discovery which might take place if by accident any
of them should approach too nearly the place of Brown's
concealment.




CHAPTER XXVIII

     Nor board nor garner own we now,
      Nor roof nor latched door,
     Nor kind mate, bound, by holy vow,
      To bless a good man's store
     Noon lulls us in a gloomy den,
      And night is grown our day;
     Uprouse ye, then, my merry men!
      And use it as ye may

          JOANNA BAILLIE.


Brown could now reckon his foes: they were five in number; two of
them were very powerful men, who appeared to be either real seamen
or strollers who assumed that character; the other three, an old
man and two lads, were slighter made, and, from their black hair
and dark complexion, seemed to belong to Meg's tribe. They passed
from one to another the cup out of which they drank their spirits.
'Here's to his good voyage!' said one of the seamen, drinking; 'a
squally night he's got, however, to drift through the sky in.'

We omit here various execrations with which these honest gentlemen
garnished their discourse, retaining only such of their expletives
as are least offensive.

''A does not mind wind and weather; 'a has had many a north-
easter in his day.'

'He had his last yesterday,' said another gruffly; 'and now old
Meg may pray for his last fair wind, as she's often done before.'

'I'll pray for nane o' him,' said Meg, 'nor for you neither, you
randy dog. The times are sair altered since I was a kinchen-mort.
Men were men then, and fought other in the open field, and there
was nae milling in the darkmans. And the gentry had kind hearts,
and would have given baith lap and pannel to ony puir gipsy; and
there was not one, from Johnnie Faa the upright man to little
Christie that was in the panniers, would cloyed a dud from them.
But ye are a' altered from the gude auld rules, and no wonder that
you scour the cramp-ring and trine to the cheat sae often. Yes, ye
are a' altered: you'll eat the goodman's meat, drink his drink,
sleep on the strammel in his barn, and break his house and cut his
throat for his pains! There's blood on your hands, too, ye dogs,
mair than ever came there by fair righting. See how ye'll die
then. Lang it was ere he died; he strove, and strove sair, and
could neither die nor live; but you--half the country will see
how ye'll grace the woodie.'

The party set up a hoarse laugh at Meg's prophecy.

'What made you come back here, ye auld beldam?' said one of the
gipsies; 'could ye not have staid where you were, and spaed
fortunes to the Cumberland flats? Bing out and tour, ye auld
devil, and see that nobody has scented; that's a' you're good for
now.'

'Is that a' I am good for now?' said the indignant matron. 'I was
good for mair than that in the great fight between our folk and
Patrico Salmon's; if I had not helped you with these very fambles
(holding up her hands), Jean Baillie would have frummagem'd you,
ye feckless do-little!'

There was here another laugh at the expense of the hero who had
received this amazon's assistance.

'Here, mother,' said one of the sailors, 'here's a cup of the
right for you, and never mind that bully-huff.'

Meg drank the spirits, and, withdrawing herself from farther
conversation, sat down before the spot where Brown lay hid, in
such a posture that it would have been difficult for any one to
have approached it without her rising. The men, however, showed no
disposition to disturb her.

They closed around the fire and held deep consultation together;
but the low tone in which they spoke, and the cant language which
they used, prevented Brown from understanding much of their
conversation. He gathered in general that they expressed great
indignation against some individual. 'He shall have his gruel,'
said one, and then whispered something very low into the ear of
his comrade.

'I'll have nothing to do with that,' said the other.

'Are you turned hen-hearted, Jack?'

'No, by G-d, no more than yourself, but I won't. It was something
like that stopped all the trade fifteen or twenty years ago. You
have heard of the Loup?'

'I have heard HIM (indicating the corpse by a jerk of his head)
tell about that job. G-d, how he used to laugh when he showed us
how he fetched him off the perch!'

'Well, but it did up the trade for one while,' said Jack.

'How should that be?' asked the surly villain.

'Why,' replied Jack, 'the people got rusty about it, and would not
deal, and they had bought so many brooms that--'

'Well, for all that,' said the other, 'I think we should be down
upon the fellow one of these darkmans and let him get it well.'

'But old Meg's asleep now,' said another; 'she grows a driveller,
and is afraid of her shadow. She'll sing out, some of these odd-
come-shortlies, if you don't look sharp.'

'Never fear,' said the old gipsy man; 'Meg's true-bred; she's the
last in the gang that will start; but she has some queer ways, and
often cuts queer words.'

With more of this gibberish they continued the conversation,
rendering it thus, even to each other, a dark obscure dialect,
eked out by significant nods and signs, but never expressing
distinctly, or in plain language, the subject on which it turned.
At length one of them, observing Meg was still fast asleep, or
appeared to be so, desired one of the lads 'to hand in the black
Peter, that they might flick it open.' The boy stepped to the door
and brought in a portmanteau, which Brown instantly recognised for
his own. His thoughts immediately turned to the unfortunate lad he
had left with the carriage. Had the ruffians murdered him? was the
horrible doubt that crossed his mind. The agony of his attention
grew yet keener, and while the villains pulled out and admired the
different articles of his clothes and linen, he eagerly listened
for some indication that might intimate the fate of the postilion.
But the ruffians were too much delighted with their prize, and too
much busied in examining its contents, to enter into any detail
concerning the manner in which they had acquired it. The
portmanteau contained various articles of apparel, a pair of
pistols, a leathern case with a few papers, and some money, etc.,
etc. At any other time it would have provoked Brown excessively to
see the unceremonious manner in which the thieves shared his
property, and made themselves merry at the expense of the owner.
But the moment was too perilous to admit any thoughts but what had
immediate reference to self-preservation.

After a sufficient scrutiny into the portmanteau, and an equitable
division of its contents, the ruffians applied themselves more
closely to the serious occupation of drinking, in which they spent
the greater part of the night. Brown was for some time in great
hopes that they would drink so deep as to render themselves
insensible, when his escape would have been an easy matter. But
their dangerous trade required precautions inconsistent with such
unlimited indulgence, and they stopped short on this side of
absolute intoxication. Three of them at length composed themselves
to rest, while the fourth watched. He was relieved in this duty by
one of the others after a vigil of two hours. When the second
watch had elapsed, the sentinel awakened the whole, who, to
Brown's inexpressible relief, began to make some preparations as
if for departure, bundling up the various articles which each had
appropriated. Still, however, there remained something to be done.
Two of them, after some rummaging which not a little alarmed
Brown, produced a mattock and shovel; another took a pickaxe from
behind the straw on which the dead body was extended. With these
implements two of them left the hut, and the remaining three, two
of whom were the seamen, very strong men, still remained in
garrison.

After the space of about half an hour, one of those who had
departed again returned, and whispered the others. They wrapped up
the dead body in the sea cloak which had served as a pall, and
went out, bearing it along with them. The aged sibyl then arose
from her real or feigned slumbers. She first went to the door, as
if for the purpose of watching the departure of her late inmates,
then returned, and commanded Brown, in a low and stifled voice, to
follow her instantly. He obeyed; but, on leaving the hut, he would
willingly have repossessed himself of his money, or papers at
least, but this she prohibited in the most peremptory manner. It
immediately occurred to him that the suspicion of having removed
anything of which he might repossess himself would fall upon this
woman, by whom in all probability his life had been saved. He
therefore immediately desisted from his attempt, contenting
himself with seizing a cutlass, which one of the ruffians had
flung aside among the straw. On his feet, and possessed of this
weapon, he already found himself half delivered from the dangers
which beset him. Still, however, he felt stiffened and cramped,
both with the cold and by the constrained and unaltered position
which he had occupied all night. But, as he followed the gipsy
from the door of the hut, the fresh air of the morning and the
action of walking restored circulation and activity to his
benumbed limbs.

The pale light of a winter's morning was rendered more clear by
the snow, which was lying all around, crisped by the influence of
a severe frost. Brown cast a hasty glance at the landscape around
him, that he might be able again to know the spot. The little
tower, of which only a single vault remained, forming the dismal
apartment in which he had spent this remarkable night, was perched
on the very point of a projecting rock overhanging the rivulet. It
was accessible only on one side, and that from the ravine or glen
below. On the other three sides the bank was precipitous, so that
Brown had on the preceding evening escaped more dangers than one;
for, if he had attempted to go round the building, which was once
his purpose, he must have been dashed to pieces. The dell was so
narrow that the trees met in some places from the opposite sides.
They were now loaded with snow instead of leaves, and thus formed
a sort of frozen canopy over the rivulet beneath, which was marked
by its darker colour, as it soaked its way obscurely through
wreaths of snow. In one place, where the glen was a little wider,
leaving a small piece of flat ground between the rivulet and the
bank, were situated the ruins of the hamlet in which Brown had
been involved on the preceding evening. The ruined gables, the
insides of which were japanned with turf-smoke, looked yet blacker
contrasted with the patches of snow which had been driven against
them by the wind, and with the drifts which lay around them.

Upon this wintry and dismal scene Brown could only at present cast
a very hasty glance; for his guide, after pausing an instant as if
to permit him to indulge his curiosity, strode hastily before him
down the path which led into the glen. He observed, with some
feelings of suspicion, that she chose a track already marked by
several feet, which he could only suppose were those of the
depredators who had spent the night in the vault. A moment's
recollection, however, put his suspicions to rest. It was not to
be thought that the woman, who might have delivered him up to her
gang when in a state totally defenceless, would have suspended her
supposed treachery until he was armed and in the open air, and had
so many better chances of defence or escape. He therefore followed
his guide in confidence and silence. They crossed the small brook
at the same place where it previously had been passed by those who
had gone before. The footmarks then proceeded through the ruined
village, and from thence down the glen, which again narrowed to a
ravine, after the small opening in which they were situated. But
the gipsy no longer followed the same track; she turned aside, and
led the way by a very rugged and uneven path up the bank which
overhung the village. Although the snow in many places hid the
pathway, and rendered the footing uncertain and unsafe, Meg
proceeded with a firm and determined step, which indicated an
intimate knowledge of the ground she traversed. At length they
gained the top of the bank, though by a passage so steep and
intricate that Brown, though convinced it was the same by which he
had descended on the night before, was not a little surprised how
he had accomplished the task without breaking his neck. Above, the
country opened wide and uninclosed for about a mile or two on the
one hand, and on the other were thick plantations of considerable
extent.

Meg, however, still led the way along the bank of the ravine out
of which they had ascended, until she heard beneath the murmur of
voices. She then pointed to a deep plantation of trees at some
distance. 'The road to Kippletringan,' she said, 'is on the other
side of these inclosures. Make the speed ye can; there's mair
rests on your life than other folk's. But you have lost all--
stay.' She fumbled in an immense pocket, from which she produced a
greasy purse--'Many's the awmous your house has gi'en Meg and
hers; and she has lived to pay it back in a small degree;' and she
placed the purse in his hand.

'The woman is insane,' thought Brown; but it was no time to debate
the point, for the sounds he heard in the ravine below probably
proceeded from the banditti. 'How shall I repay this money,' he
said, 'or how acknowledge the kindness you have done me?'

'I hae twa boons to crave,' answered the sibyl, speaking low and
hastily: 'one, that you will never speak of what you have seen
this night; the other, that you will not leave this country till
you see me again, and that you leave word at the Gordon Arms where
you are to be heard of, and when I next call for you, be it in
church or market, at wedding or at burial, Sunday or Saturday,
mealtime or fasting, that ye leave everything else and come with
me.'

'Why, that will do you little good, mother.'

'But 'twill do yoursell muckle, and that's what I'm thinking o'. I
am not mad, although I have had eneugh to make me sae; I am not
mad, nor doating, nor drunken. I know what I am asking, and I know
it has been the will of God to preserve you in strange dangers,
and that I shall be the instrument to set you in your father's
seat again. Sae give me your promise, and mind that you owe your
life to me this blessed night.'

'There's wildness in her manner, certainly,' thought Brown, 'and
yet it is more like the wildness of energy than of madness.'--
'Well, mother, since you do ask so useless and trifling a favour,
you have my promise. It will at least give me an opportunity to
repay your money with additions. You are an uncommon kind of
creditor, no doubt, but--'

'Away, away, then!' said she, waving her hand. 'Think not about
the goud, it's a' your ain; but remember your promise, and do not
dare to follow me or look after me.' So saying, she plunged again
into the dell, and descended it with great agility, the icicles
and snow-wreaths showering down after her as she disappeared.

Notwithstanding her prohibition, Brown endeavoured to gain some
point of the bank from which he might, unseen, gaze down into the
glen; and with some difficulty (for it must be conceived that the
utmost caution was necessary) he succeeded. The spot which he
attained for this purpose was the point of a projecting rock,
which rose precipitously from among the trees. By kneeling down
among the snow and stretching his head cautiously forward, he
could observe what was going on in the bottom of the dell. He saw,
as he expected, his companions of the last night, now joined by
two or three others. They had cleared away the snow from the foot
of the rock and dug a deep pit, which was designed to serve the
purpose of a grave. Around this they now stood, and lowered into
it something wrapped in a naval cloak, which Brown instantly
concluded to be the dead body of the man he had seen expire. They
then stood silent for half a minute, as if under some touch of
feeling for the loss of their companion. But if they experienced
such, they did not long remain under its influence, for all hands
went presently to work to fill up the grave; and Brown, perceiving
that the task would be soon ended, thought it best to take the
gipsy woman's hint and walk as fast as possible until he should
gain the shelter of the plantation.

Having arrived under cover of the trees, his first thought was of
the gipsy's purse. He had accepted it without hesitation, though
with something like a feeling of degradation, arising from the
character of the person by whom he was thus accommodated. But it
relieved him from a serious though temporary embarrassment. His
money, excepting a very few shillings, was in his portmanteau, and
that was in possession of Meg's friends. Some time was necessary
to write to his agent, or even to apply to his good host at
Charlie's Hope, who would gladly have supplied him. In the
meantime he resolved to avail himself of Meg's subsidy, confident
he should have a speedy opportunity of replacing it with a
handsome gratuity. 'It can be but a trifling sum,' he said to
himself, 'and I daresay the good lady may have a share of my
banknotes to make amends.'

With these reflections he opened the leathern purse, expecting to
find at most three or four guineas. But how much was he surprised
to discover that it contained, besides a considerable quantity of
gold pieces, of different coinages and various countries, the
joint amount of which could not be short of a hundred pounds,
several valuable rings and ornaments set with jewels, and, as
appeared from the slight inspection he had time to give them, of
very considerable value.

Brown was equally astonished and embarrassed by the circumstances
in which he found himself, possessed, as he now appeared to be, of
property to a much greater amount than his own, but which had been
obtained in all probability by the same nefarious means through
which he had himself been plundered. His first thought was to
inquire after the nearest justice of peace, and to place in his
hands the treasure of which he had thus unexpectedly become the
depositary, telling at the same time his own remarkable story. But
a moment's consideration brought several objections to this mode
of procedure In the first place, by observing this course he
should break his promise of silence, and might probably by that
means involve the safety, perhaps the life, of this woman, who had
risked her own to preserve his, and who had voluntarily endowed
him with this treasure--a generosity which might thus become the
means of her ruin. This was not to be thought of. Besides, he was
a stranger, and for a time at least unprovided with means of
establishing his own character and credit to the satisfaction of a
stupid or obstinate country magistrate. 'I will think over the
matter more maturely,' he said; 'perhaps there may be a regiment
quartered at the county town, in which case my knowledge of the
service and acquaintance with many officers of the army cannot
fail to establish my situation and character by evidence which a
civil judge could not sufficiently estimate. And then I shall have
the commanding officer's assistance in managing matters so as to
screen this unhappy madwoman, whose mistake or prejudice has been
so fortunate for me. A civil magistrate might think himself
obliged to send out warrants for her at once, and the consequence,
in case of her being taken, is pretty evident. No, she has been
upon honour with me if she were the devil, and I will be equally
upon honour with her. She shall have the privilege of a court-
martial, where the point of honour can qualify strict law.
Besides, I may see her at this place, Kipple--Couple--what did
she call it? and then I can make restitution to her, and e'en let
the law claim its own when it can secure her. In the meanwhile,
however, I cut rather an awkward figure for one who has the honour
to bear his Majesty's commission, being little better than the
receiver of stolen goods.'

With these reflections, Brown took from the gipsy's treasure three
or four guineas, for the purpose of his immediate expenses, and,
tying up the rest in the purse which contained them, resolved not
again to open it until he could either restore it to her by whom
it was given, or put it into the hands of some public functionary.
He next thought of the cutlass, and his first impulse was to leave
it in the plantation. But, when he considered the risk of meeting
with these ruffians, he could not resolve on parting with his
arms. His walking-dress, though plain, had so much of a military
character as suited not amiss with his having such a weapon.
Besides, though the custom of wearing swords by persons out of
uniform had been gradually becoming antiquated, it was not yet so
totally forgotten as to occasion any particular remark towards
those who chose to adhere to it. Retaining, therefore, his weapon
of defence, and placing the purse of the gipsy in a private
pocket, our traveller strode gallantly on through the wood in
search of the promised highroad.




CHAPTER XXIX

    All school day's friendship childhood innocence'
     We Hermia like two artificial gods
     Have with our needles created both one flower,
     Both on one sampler sitting on one cushion,
     Both warbling of one song both in one key
     As if our hands our sides, voices and minds
     Had been incorporate

          A Midsummer Night's Dream


JULIA MANNERING TO MATILDA MARCHMONT

'How can you upbraid me, my dearest Matilda, with abatement in
friendship or fluctuation in affection? Is it possible for me to
forget that you are the chosen of my heart, in whose faithful
bosom I have deposited every feeling which your poor Julia dares
to acknowledge to herself? And you do me equal injustice in
upbraiding me with exchanging your friendship for that of Lucy
Bertram. I assure you she has not the materials I must seek for in
a bosom confidante. She is a charming girl, to be sure, and I like
her very much, and I confess our forenoon and evening engagements
have left me less time for the exercise of my pen than our
proposed regularity of correspondence demands. But she is totally
devoid of elegant accomplishments, excepting the knowledge of
French and Italian, which she acquired from the most grotesque
monster you ever beheld, whom my father has engaged as a kind of
librarian, and whom he patronises, I believe, to show his defiance
of the world's opinion. Colonel Mannering seems to have formed a
determination that nothing shall be considered as ridiculous so
long as it appertains to or is connected with him. I remember in
India he had picked up somewhere a little mongrel cur, with bandy
legs, a long back, and huge flapping ears. Of this uncouth
creature he chose to make a favourite, in despite of all taste and
opinion; and I remember one instance which he alleged, of what he
called Brown's petulance, was, that he had criticised severely the
crooked legs and drooping ears of Bingo. On my word, Matilda, I
believe he nurses his high opinion of this most awkward of all
pedants upon a similar principle. He seats the creature at table,
where he pronounces a grace that sounds like the scream of the man
in the square that used to cry mackerel, flings his meat down his
throat by shovelfuls, like a dustman loading his cart, and
apparently without the most distant perception of what he is
swallowing, then bleats forth another unnatural set of tones by
way of returning thanks, stalks out of the room, and immerses
himself among a parcel of huge worm-eaten folios that are as
uncouth as himself! I could endure the creature well enough had I
anybody to laugh at him along with me; but Lucy Bertram, if I but
verge on the border of a jest affecting this same Mr. Sampson
(such is the horrid man's horrid name), looks so piteous that it
deprives me of all spirit to proceed, and my father knits his
brow, flashes fire from his eye, bites his lip, and says something
that is extremely rude and uncomfortable to my feelings.

'It was not of this creature, however, that I meant to speak to
you, only that, being a good scholar in the modern as well as the
ancient languages, he has contrived to make Lucy Bertram mistress
of the former, and she has only, I believe, to thank her own good
sense, or obstinacy, that the Greek, Latin (and Hebrew, for aught
I know), were not added to her acquisitions. And thus she really
has a great fund of information, and I assure you I am daily
surprised at the power which she seems to possess of amusing
herself by recalling and arranging the subjects of her former
reading. We read together every morning, and I begin to like
Italian much better than when we were teased by that conceited
animal Cicipici. This is the way to spell his name, and not
Chichipichi; you see I grow a connoisseur.