Guy Mannering [106]
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 unenclosed 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 enclosures--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, meal-time or fasting, that ye leave everything else and come with me."
"Why, that will do you little good, mother."
"But 'twill do yourself 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 prornise. 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
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 enclosures--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, meal-time or fasting, that ye leave everything else and come with me."
"Why, that will do you little good, mother."
"But 'twill do yourself 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 prornise. 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