Вальтер Скотт
The Black Dwarf
“A true friend indeed; God bless him!” exclaimed Hobbie; “let’s on and away, and take the chase after him.”
“O, my child, before you run on danger, let me hear you but say, HIS will be done!”
“Urge me not, mother – not now.” He was rushing out, when, looking back, he observed his grandmother make a mute attitude of affliction. He returned hastily, threw himself into her arms, and said, “Yes, mother, I CAN say, HIS will be done, since it will comfort you.”
“May He go forth – may He go forth with you, my dear bairn; and O, may He give you cause to say on your return, HIS name be praised!”
“Farewell, mother! – farewell, my dear sisters!” exclaimed Elliot, and rushed out of the house.
CHAPTER VIII
Now horse and hattock, cried the Laird, —
Now horse and hattock, speedilie;
They that winna ride for Telfer’s kye,
Let them never look in the face o’ me.
– Border Ballad.
“Horse! horse! and spear!” exclaimed Hobbie to his kinsmen. Many a ready foot was in the stirrup; and, while Elliot hastily collected arms and accoutrements, no easy matter in such a confusion, the glen resounded with the approbation of his younger friends.
“Ay, ay!” exclaimed Simon of Hackburn, “that’s the gate to take it, Hobbie. Let women sit and greet at hame, men must do as they have been done by; it’s the Scripture says’t.”
“Haud your tongue, sir,” said one of the seniors, sternly; “dinna abuse the Word that gate, ye dinna ken what ye speak about.”
“Hae ye ony tidings? – Hae ye ony speerings, Hobbie? – O, callants, dinna be ower hasty,” said old Dick of the Dingle.
“What signifies preaching to us, e’enow?” said Simon; “if ye canna make help yoursell, dinna keep back them that can.”
“Whisht, sir; wad ye take vengeance or ye ken wha has wrang’d ye?”
“D’ye think we dinna ken the road to England as weel as our fathers before us? – All evil comes out o’ thereaway – it’s an auld saying and a true; and we’ll e’en away there, as if the devil was blawing us south.”
“We’ll follow the track o’ Earnscliff’s horses ower the waste,” cried one Elliot.
“I’ll prick them out through the blindest moor in the Border, an there had been a fair held there the day before,” said Hugh, the blacksmith of Ringleburn, “for I aye shoe his horse wi’ my ain hand.”
“Lay on the deer-hounds,” cried another “where are they?”
“Hout, man, the sun’s been lang up, and the dew is aff the grund – the scent will never lie.”
Hobbie instantly whistled on his hounds, which were roving about the ruins of their old habitation, and filling the air with their doleful howls.
“Now, Killbuck,” said Hobbie, “try thy skill this day,” and then, as if a light had suddenly broke on him, – “that ill-faur’d goblin spak something o’ this! He may ken mair o’t, either by villains on earth, or devils below – I’ll hae it frae him, if I should cut it out o’ his mis-shapen bouk wi’ my whinger.” He then hastily gave directions to his comrades: “Four o’ ye, wi’ Simon, haud right forward to Graeme’s-gap. If they’re English, they’ll be for being back that way. The rest disperse by twasome and threesome through the waste, and meet me at the Trysting-pool. Tell my brothers, when they come up, to follow and meet us there. Poor lads, they will hae hearts weelnigh as sair as mine; little think they what a sorrowful house they are bringing their venison to! I’ll ride ower Mucklestane-Moor mysell.”
“And if I were you,” said Dick of the Dingle, “I would speak to Canny Elshie. He can tell you whatever betides in this land, if he’s sae minded.”
“He SHALL tell me,” said Hobbie, who was busy putting his arms in order, “what he kens o’ this night’s job, or I shall right weel ken wherefore he does not.”
“Ay, but speak him fair, my bonny man – speak him fair Hobbie; the like o’ him will no bear thrawing. They converse sae muckle wi’ thae fractious ghaists and evil spirits, that it clean spoils their temper.”
“Let me alane to guide him,” answered Hobbie; “there’s that in my breast this day, that would ower-maister a’ the warlocks on earth, and a’ the devils in hell.”
And being now fully equipped, he threw himself on his horse, and spurred him at a rapid pace against the steep ascent.
Elliot speedily surmounted the hill, rode down the other side at the same rate, crossed a wood, and traversed a long glen, ere he at length regained Mucklestane-Moor. As he was obliged, in the course of his journey, to relax his speed in consideration of the labour which his horse might still have to undergo, he had time to consider maturely in what manner he should address the Dwarf, in order to extract from him the knowledge which he supposed him to be in possession of concerning the authors of his misfortunes. Hobbie, though blunt, plain of speech, and hot of disposition, like most of his countrymen, was by no means deficient in the shrewdness which is also their characteristic. He reflected, that from what he had observed on the memorable night when the Dwarf was first seen, and from the conduct of that mysterious being ever since, he was likely to be rendered even more obstinate in his sullenness by threats and violence.
“I’ll speak him fair,” he said, “as auld Dickon advised me. Though folk say he has a league wi’ Satan, he canna be sic an incarnate devil as no to take some pity in a case like mine; and folk threep he’ll whiles do good, charitable sort o’ things. I’ll keep my heart doun as weel as I can, and stroke him wi’ the hair; and if the warst come to the warst, it’s but wringing the head o’ him about at last.”
In this disposition of accommodation he approached the hut of the Solitary.
The old man was not upon his seat of audience, nor could Hobbie perceive him in his garden, or enclosures.
“He’s gotten into his very keep,” said Hobbie, “maybe to be out o’ the gate; but I’se pu’ it doun about his lugs, if I canna win at him otherwise.”
Having thus communed with himself, he raised his voice, and invoked Elshie in a tone as supplicating as his conflicting feelings would permit. “Elshie, my gude friend!” No reply. “Elshie, canny Father Elshie!” The Dwarf remained mute. “Sorrow be in the crooked carcass of thee!” said the Borderer between his teeth; and then again attempting a soothing tone, – “Good Father Elshie, a most miserable creature desires some counsel of your wisdom.”
“The better!” answered the shrill and discordant voice of the Dwarf through a very small window, resembling an arrow slit, which he had constructed near the door of his dwelling, and through which he could see any one who approached it, without the possibility of their looking in upon him.
“The better!” said Hobbie impatiently; “what is the better, Elshie? Do you not hear me tell you I am the most miserable wretch living?”
“And do you not hear me tell you it is so much the better! and did I not tell you this morning, when you thought yourself so happy, what an evening was coming upon you?”
“That ye did e’en,” replied Hobbie, “and that gars me come to you for advice now; they that foresaw the trouble maun ken the cure.”
“I know no cure for earthly trouble,” returned the Dwarf “or, if I did, why should I help others, when none hath aided me? Have I not lost wealth, that would have bought all thy barren hills a hundred times over? rank, to which thine is as that of a peasant? society, where there was an interchange of all that was amiable – of all that was intellectual? Have I not lost all this? Am I not residing here, the veriest outcast on the face of Nature, in the most hideous and most solitary of her retreats, myself more hideous than all that is around me? And why should other worms complain to me when they are trodden on, since I am myself lying crushed and writhing under the chariot-wheel?”
“Ye may have lost all this,” answered Hobbie, in the bitterness of emotion; “land and friends, goods and gear; ye may hae lost them a’, – but ye ne’er can hae sae sair a heart as mine, for ye ne’er lost nae Grace Armstrong. And now my last hopes are gane, and I shall ne’er see her mair.”
This he said in the tone of deepest emotion – and there followed a long pause, for the mention of his bride’s name had overcome the more angry and irritable feelings of poor Hobbie. Ere he had again addressed the Solitary, the bony hand and long fingers of the latter, holding a large leathern bag, was thrust forth at the small window, and as it unclutched the burden, and let it drop with a clang upon the ground, his harsh voice again addressed Elliot.
“There – there lies a salve for every human ill; so, at least, each human wretch readily thinks. – Begone; return twice as wealthy as thou wert before yesterday, and torment me no more with questions, complaints, or thanks; they are alike odious to me.”
“It is a’ gowd, by Heaven!” said Elliot, having glanced at the contents; and then again addressing the Hermit, “Muckle obliged for your goodwill; and I wad blithely gie you a bond for some o’ the siller, or a wadset ower the lands o’ Wideopen. But I dinna ken, Elshie; to be free wi’ you, I dinna like to use siller unless I kend it was decently come by; and maybe it might turn into sclate-stanes, and cheat some poor man.”
“Ignorant idiot!” retorted the Dwarf; “the trash is as genuine poison as ever was dug out of the bowels of the earth. Take it – use it, and may it thrive with you as it hath done with me!”
“But I tell you,” said Elliot, “it wasna about the gear that I was consulting you, – it was a braw barn-yard, doubtless, and thirty head of finer cattle there werena on this side of the Catrail; but let the gear gang, – if ye could but gie me speerings o’ puir Grace, I would be content to be your slave for life, in onything that didna touch my salvation. O, Elshie, speak, man, speak!”
“Well, then,” answered the Dwarf, as if worn out by his importunity, “since thou hast not enough of woes of thine own, but must needs seek to burden thyself with those of a partner, seek her whom thou hast lost in the WEST.”
“In the WEST? That’s a wide word.”
“It is the last,” said the Dwarf, “which I design to utter;” and he drew the shutters of his window, leaving Hobbie to make the most of the hint he had given.
The west! the west! – thought Elliot; the country is pretty quiet down that way, unless it were Jock o’ the Todholes; and he’s ower auld now for the like o’ thae jobs. – West! – By My life, it must be Westburnflat. “Elshie, just tell me one word. Am I right? Is it Westburnflat? If I am wrang, say sae. I wadna like to wyte an innocent neighbour wi’ violence – No answer? – It must be the Red Reiver – I didna think he wad hae ventured on me, neither, and sae mony kin as there’s o’ us – I am thinking he’ll hae some better backing than his Cumberland friends. – Fareweel to you, Elshie, and mony thanks – I downa be fashed wi’ the siller e’en now, for I maun awa’ to meet my friends at the Trysting-place – Sae, if ye carena to open the window, ye can fetch it in after I’m awa’.”
Still there was no reply.
“He’s deaf, or he’s daft, or he’s baith; but I hae nae time to stay to claver wi’ him.”
And off rode Hobbie Elliot towards the place of rendezvous which he had named to his friends.
Four or five riders were already gathered at the Trysting pool. They stood in close consultation together, while their horses were permitted to graze among the poplars which overhung the broad still pool. A more numerous party were seen coming from the southward. It proved to be Earnscliff and his party, who had followed the track of the cattle as far as the English border, but had halted on the information that a considerable force was drawn together under some of the Jacobite gentlemen in that district, and there were tidings of insurrection in different parts of Scotland. This took away from the act which had been perpetrated the appearance of private animosity, or love of plunder; and Earnscliff was now disposed to regard it as a symptom of civil war. The young gentleman greeted Hobbie with the most sincere sympathy, and informed him of the news he had received.
“Then, may I never stir frae the bit,” said Elliot, “if auld Ellieslaw is not at the bottom o’ the haill villainy! Ye see he’s leagued wi’ the Cumberland Catholics; and that agrees weel wi’ what Elshie hinted about Westburnflat, for Ellieslaw aye protected him, and he will want to harry and disarm the country about his ain hand before he breaks out.”
Some now remembered that the party of ruffians had been heard to say they were acting for James VIII., and were charged to disarm all rebels. Others had heard Westburnflat boast, in drinking parties, that Ellieslaw would soon be in arms for the Jacobite cause, and that he himself was to hold a command under him, and that they would be bad neighbours for young Earnscliff; and all that stood out for the established government. The result was a strong belief that Westburnflat had headed the party under Ellieslaw’s orders; and they resolved to proceed instantly to the house of the former, and, if possible, to secure his person. They were by this time joined by so many of their dispersed friends, that their number amounted to upwards of twenty horsemen, well mounted, and tolerably, though variously, armed.
A brook, which issued from a narrow glen among the hills, entered, at Westburnflat, upon the open marshy level, which, expanding about half a mile in every direction, gives name to the spot. In this place the character of the stream becomes changed, and, from being a lively brisk-running mountain-torrent, it stagnates, like a blue swollen snake, in dull deep windings, through the swampy level. On the side of the stream, and nearly about the centre of the plain, arose the tower of Westburnflat, one of the few remaining strongholds formerly so numerous upon the Borders. The ground upon which it stood was gently elevated above the marsh for the space of about a hundred yards, affording an esplanade of dry turf, which extended itself in the immediate neighbourhood of the tower; but, beyond which, the surface presented to strangers was that of an impassable and dangerous bog. The owner of the tower and his inmates alone knew the winding and intricate paths, which, leading over ground that was comparatively sound, admitted visitors to his residence. But among the party which were assembled under Earnscliff’s directions, there was more than one person qualified to act as a guide. For although the owner’s character and habits of life were generally known, yet the laxity of feeling with respect to property prevented his being looked on with the abhorrence with which he must have been regarded in a more civilized country. He was considered, among his more peaceable neighbours, pretty much as a gambler, cock-fighter, or horse-jockey would be regarded at the present day; a person, of course, whose habits were to be condemned, and his society, in general, avoided, yet who could not be considered as marked with the indelible infamy attached to his profession, where laws have been habitually observed. And their indignation was awakened against him upon this occasion, not so much on account of the general nature of the transaction, which was just such as was to be expected from this marauder, as that the violence had been perpetrated upon a neighbour against whom he had no cause of quarrel, – against a friend of their own, – above all, against one of the name of Elliot, to which clan most of them belonged. It was not, therefore, wonderful, that there should be several in the band pretty well acquainted with the locality of his habitation, and capable of giving such directions and guidance as soon placed the whole party on the open space of firm ground in front of the Tower of Westburnflat.
CHAPTER IX
So spak the knicht; the geaunt sed,
Lend forth with the the sely maid,
And mak me quile of the and sche;
For glaunsing ee, or brow so brent,
Or cheek with rose and lilye blent,
Me lists not ficht with the.
– ROMANCE OF THE FALCON.
The tower, before which the party now stood, was a small square building, of the most gloomy aspect. The walls were of great thickness, and the windows, or slits which served the purpose of windows, seemed rather calculated to afford the defenders the means of employing missile weapons, than for admitting air or light to the apartments within. A small battlement projected over the walls on every side, and afforded farther advantage of defence by its niched parapet, within which arose a steep roof, flagged with grey stones. A single turret at one angle, defended by a door studded with huge iron nails, rose above the battlement, and gave access to the roof from within, by the spiral staircase which it enclosed. It seemed to the party that their motions were watched by some one concealed within this turret; and they were confirmed in their belief when, through a narrow loophole, a female hand was seen to wave a handkerchief, as if by way of signal to them. Hobbie was almost out of his senses with joy and eagerness.
“It was Grace’s hand and arm,” he said; “I can swear to it amang a thousand. There is not the like of it on this side of the Lowdens – We’ll have her out, lads, if we should carry off the Tower of Westburnflat stane by stane.”
Earnscliff, though he doubted the possibility of recognising a fair maiden’s hand at such a distance from the eye of the lover, would say nothing to damp his friend’s animated hopes, and it was resolved to summon the garrison.
The shouts of the party, and the winding of one or two horns, at length brought to a loophole, which flanked the entrance, the haggard face of an old woman.
“That’s the Reiver’s mother,” said one of the Elliots; “she’s ten times waur than himsell, and is wyted for muckle of the ill he does about the country.”
“Wha are ye? what d’ye want here?” were the queries of the respectable progenitor.
“We are seeking William Graeme of Westburnflat,” said Earnscliff.
“He’s no at hame,” returned the old dame.
“When did he leave home?” pursued Earnscliff.
“I canna tell,” said the portress.
“When will he return?” said Hobbie Elliot.
“I dinna ken naething about it,” replied the inexorable guardian of the keep.
“Is there anybody within the tower with you?” again demanded Earnscliff.
“Naebody but mysell and baudrons,” said the old woman.
“Then open the gate and admit us,” said Earnscliff; “I am a justice of peace, and in search of the evidence of a felony.”
“Deil be in their fingers that draws a bolt for ye,” retorted the portress; “for mine shall never do it. Thinkna ye shame o’ yoursells, to come here siccan a band o’ ye, wi’ your swords, and spears, and steel-caps, to frighten a lone widow woman?”
“Our information,” said Earnscliff; “is positive; we are seeking goods which have been forcibly carried off, to a great amount.”
“And a young woman, that’s been cruelly made prisoner, that’s worth mair than a’ the gear, twice told,” said Hobbie.
“And I warn you.” continued Earnscliff, “that your only way to prove your son’s innocence is to give us quiet admittance to search the house.”
“And what will ye do, if I carena to thraw the keys, or draw the bolts, or open the grate to sic a clamjamfrie?” said the old dame, scoffingly.
“Force our way with the king’s keys, and break the neck of every living soul we find in the house, if ye dinna gie it ower forthwith!” menaced the incensed Hobbie.
“Threatened folks live lang,” said the hag, in the same tone of irony; “there’s the iron grate – try your skeel on’t, lads – it has kept out as gude men as you or now.”
So saying, she laughed, and withdrew from the aperture through which she had held the parley.
The besiegers now opened a serious consultation. The immense thickness of the walls, and the small size of the windows, might, for a time, have even resisted cannon-shot. The entrance was secured, first, by a strong grated door, composed entirely of hammered iron, of such ponderous strength as seemed calculated to resist any force that could be brought against it. “Pinches or forehammers will never pick upon’t,” said Hugh, the blacksmith of Ringleburn; “ye might as weel batter at it wi’ pipe-staples.”
Within the doorway, and at the distance of nine feet, which was the solid thickness of the wall, there was a second door of oak, crossed, both breadth and lengthways, with clenched bars of iron, and studded full of broad-headed nails. Besides all these defences, they were by no means confident in the truth of the old dame’s assertion, that she alone composed the garrison. The more knowing of the party had observed hoof-marks in the track by which they approached the tower, which seemed to indicate that several persons had very lately passed in that direction.
To all these difficulties was added their want of means for attacking the place. There was no hope of procuring ladders long enough to reach the battlements, and the windows, besides being very narrow, were secured with iron bars. Scaling was therefore out of the question; mining was still more so, for want of tools and gunpowder; neither were the besiegers provided with food, means of shelter, or other conveniences, which might have enabled them to convert the siege into a blockade; and there would, at any rate, have been a risk of relief from some of the marauder’s comrades. Hobbie grinded and gnashed his teeth, as, walking round the fastness, he could devise no means of making a forcible entry. At length he suddenly exclaimed, “And what for no do as our fathers did lang syne? – Put hand to the wark, lads. Let us cut up bushes and briers, pile them before the door and set fire to them, and smoke that auld devil’s dam as if she were to be reested for bacon.”
All immediately closed with this proposal, and some went to work with swords and knives to cut down the alder and hawthorn bushes which grew by the side of the sluggish stream, many of which were sufficiently decayed and dried for their purpose, while others began to collect them in a large stack, properly disposed for burning, as close to the iron-grate as they could be piled. Fire was speedily obtained from one of their guns, and Hobbie was already advancing to the pile with a kindled brand, when the surly face of the robber, and the muzzle of a musquetoon, were partially shown at a shot-hole which flanked the entrance. “Mony thanks to ye,” he said, scoffingly, “for collecting sae muckle winter eilding for us; but if ye step a foot nearer it wi’ that lunt, it’s be the dearest step ye ever made in your days.”
“We’ll sune see that,” said Hobbie, advancing fearlessly with the torch.
The marauder snapped his piece at him, which, fortunately for our honest friend, did not go off; while Earnscliff, firing at the same moment at the narrow aperture and slight mark afforded by the robber’s face, grazed the side of his head with a bullet. He had apparently calculated upon his post affording him more security, for he no sooner felt the wound, though a very slight one, than he requested a parley, and demanded to know what they meant by attacking in this fashion a peaceable and honest man, and shedding his blood in that lawless manner?
“We want your prisoner,” said Earnscliff, “to be delivered up to us in safety.”
“And what concern have you with her?” replied the marauder.
“That,” retorted Earnscliff, “you, who are detaining her by force, have no right to enquire.”
“Aweel, I think I can gie a guess,” said the robber. “Weel, sirs, I am laith to enter into deadly feud with you by spilling ony of your bluid, though Earnscliff hasna stopped to shed mine – and he can hit a mark to a groat’s breadth – so, to prevent mair skaith, I am willing to deliver up the prisoner, since nae less will please you.”
“And Hobbie’s gear?” cried Simon of Hackburn. “D’ye think you’re to be free to plunder the faulds and byres of a gentle Elliot, as if they were an auld wife’s hens’-cavey?”
“As I live by bread,” replied Willie of Westburnflat “As I live by bread, I have not a single cloot o’ them! They’re a’ ower the march lang syne; there’s no a horn o’ them about the tower. But I’ll see what o’ them can be gotten back, and I’ll take this day twa days to meet Hobbie at the Castleton wi’ twa friends on ilka side, and see to make an agreement about a’ the wrang he can wyte me wi’.”
“Ay, ay,” said Elliot, “that will do weel eneugh.” – And then aside to his kinsman, “Murrain on the gear! Lordsake, man! say nought about them. Let us but get puir Grace out o’ that auld hellicat’s clutches.”
“Will ye gie me your word, Earnscliff,” said the marauder, who still lingered at the shot-hole, “your faith and troth, with hand and glove, that I am free to come and free to gae, with five minutes to open the grate, and five minutes to steek it and to draw the bolts? less winna do, for they want creishing sairly. Will ye do this?”
“You shall have full time,” said Earnscliff; “I plight my faith and troth, my hand and my glove.”
“Wait there a moment, then,” said Westburnflat; “or hear ye, I wad rather ye wad fa’ back a pistol-shot from the door. It’s no that I mistrust your word, Earnscliff; but it’s best to be sure.”
O, friend, thought Hobbie to himself, as he drew back, an I had you but on Turner’s-holm, [There is a level meadow, on the very margin of the two kingdoms, called Turner’s-holm, just where the brook called Crissop joins the Liddel. It is said to have derived its name as being a place frequently assigned for tourneys, during the ancient Border times.] and naebody by but twa honest lads to see fair play, I wad make ye wish ye had broken your leg ere ye had touched beast or body that belanged to me!
“He has a white feather in his wing this same Westburnflat, after a’,” said Simon of Hackburn, somewhat scandalized by his ready surrender. – “He’ll ne’er fill his father’s boots.”
In the meanwhile, the inner door of the tower was opened, and the mother of the freebooter appeared in the space betwixt that and the outer grate. Willie himself was next seen, leading forth a female, and the old woman, carefully bolting the grate behind them, remained on the post as a sort of sentinel.
“Ony ane or twa o’ ye come forward,” said the outlaw, “and take her frae my hand haill and sound.”
Hobbie advanced eagerly, to meet his betrothed bride. Earnscliff followed more slowly, to guard against treachery. Suddenly Hobbie slackened his pace in the deepest mortification, while that of Earnscliff was hastened by impatient surprise. It was not Grace Armstrong, but Miss Isabella Vere, whose liberation had been effected by their appearance before the tower.
“Where is Grace? where is Grace Armstrong?” exclaimed Hobbie, in the extremity of wrath and indignation.
“Not in my hands,” answered Westburnflat; “ye may search the tower, if ye misdoubt me.”
“You false villain, you shall account for her, or die on the spot,” said Elliot, presenting his gun.
But his companions, who now came up, instantly disarmed him of his weapon, exclaiming, all at once, “Hand and glove! faith and troth! Haud a care, Hobbie we maun keep our faith wi’ Westburnflat, were he the greatest rogue ever rode.”
Thus protected, the outlaw recovered his audacity, which had been somewhat daunted by the menacing gesture of Elliot.
“I have kept my word, sirs,” he said, “and I look to have nae wrang amang ye. If this is no the prisoner ye sought,” he said, addressing Earnscliff, “ye’ll render her back to me again. I am answerable for her to those that aught her.”
“For God’s sake, Mr. Earnscliff, protect me!” said Miss Vere, clinging to her deliverer; “do not you abandon one whom the whole world seems to have abandoned.”
“Fear nothing,” whispered Earnscliff, “I will protect you with my life.” Then turning to Westburnflat, “Villain!” he said, “how dared you to insult this lady?”
“For that matter, Earnscliff,” answered the freebooter, “I can answer to them that has better right to ask me than you have; but if you come with an armed force, and take her awa’ from them that her friends lodged her wi’, how will you answer THAT – But it’s your ain affair – Nae single man can keep a tower against twenty – A’ the men o’ the Mearns downa do mair than they dow.”
“He lies most falsely,” said Isabella; “he carried me off by violence from my father.”
“Maybe he only wanted ye to think sae, hinny,” replied the robber; “but it’s nae business o’ mine, let it be as it may. – So ye winna resign her back to me?”
“Back to you, fellow? Surely no,” answered Earnscliff; “I will protect Miss Vere, and escort her safely wherever she is pleased to be conveyed.”
“Ay, ay, maybe you and her hae settled that already,” said Willie of Westburnflat.
“And Grace?” interrupted Hobbie, shaking himself loose from the friends who had been preaching to him the sanctity of the safe-conduct, upon the faith of which the freebooter had ventured from his tower, – “Where’s Grace?” and he rushed on the marauder, sword in hand.
Westburnflat, thus pressed, after calling out, “Godsake, Hobbie, hear me a gliff!” fairly turned his back and fled. His mother stood ready to open and shut the grate; but Hobbie struck at the freebooter as he entered with so much force, that the sword made a considerable cleft in the lintel of the vaulted door, which is still shown as a memorial of the superior strength of those who lived in the days of yore. Ere Hobbie could repeat the blow, the door was shut and secured, and he was compelled to retreat to his companions, who were now preparing to break up the siege of Westburnflat. They insisted upon his accompanying them in their return.
“Ye hae broken truce already,” said old Dick of the Dingle; “an we takena the better care, ye’ll play mair gowk’s tricks, and make yoursell the laughing-stock of the haill country, besides having your friends charged with slaughter under trust. Bide till the meeting at Castleton, as ye hae greed; and if he disna make ye amends, then we’ll hae it out o’ his heart’s blood. But let us gang reasonably to wark and keep our tryst, and I’se warrant we get back Grace, and the kye an’ a’.”
This cold-blooded reasoning went ill down with the unfortunate lover; but, as he could only obtain the assistance of his neighbours and kinsmen on their own terms, he was compelled to acquiesce in their notions of good faith and regular procedure.
