Guy Mannering [225]
accounted for his unexpected arrival to Bertram, by saying, that he had kept them in view for some time by the direction of Mannering; that, observing them disappear into the cave, he had crept after them, meaning to announce himself and his errand, when his hand in the darkness encountering the leg of Dinmont, had nearly produced a catastrophe, which, indeed, nothing but the presence of mind and fortitude of the bold yeoman could have averted.
When the gipsy arrived at the hut, she produced the key; and when they entered, and were about to deposit her upon the bed, she said, in an anxious tone, "Na, na! not that way, the feet to the east;" and appeared gratified when they reversed her posture accordingly, and placed her in that appropriate to dead body.
"Is there no clergyman near," said Bertram, "to assist this unhappy woman's devotions?"
A gentleman, the minister of the parish, who had been Charles Hazlewood's tutor, had, with many others, caught the alarm, that the murderer of Kennedy was taken on the spot where the deed had been done so many years before, and that a woman was mortally wounded. From curiosity, or rather from the feeling that his duty called him to scenes of distress, this gentleman had come to the Kaim of Derncleugh, and now presented himself. The surgeon arrived at the same time, and was about to probe the wound; but Meg resisted the assistance of either. "It's no what man can do, that will heal my body, or save my spirit. Let me speak what I have to say, and then ye may work your will; I'se be nae hinderance.--But where's Henry Bertram?"--the assistants, to whom this same had been long a stranger, gazed upon each other.--"Yes!" she said, in a stronger and harsher tone, "Isaid Henry Bertram of Ellangowan. Stand from the light and let me see him."
All eyes--were turned towards Bertram, who approached the wretched couch. The wounded woman took hold of his hand. "Look at him," she said, "all that ever saw his father or his grandfather, and bear witness if he is not their living image?" A murmur went through the crowd--the resemblance was too striking to be denied. "And now hear me--and let that man," pointing to Hatteraick, who was seated with his keepers on a sea-chest at some distance-" let him deny what I say, if he can. That is Henry Bertram, son to Godfrey Bertram, umquhile of Ellangowan; that young man is the very lad-bairn that Dirk Hatteraick carried off from Warroch Wood the day that he murdered the gauger. I was there like a wandering spirit--for I longed to see that wood or we left the country. I saved the bairn's life, and sair, sair I prigged [*Begged] and prayed they would leave him wi' me--But they bore him away, and he's been lang ower the sea, and now he's come for his ain, and what should withstand him?--I swore to keep the secret till he was ane-an'-twenty--I kenn'd he believed to dree his weird [*Fulfil his destiny] till that day cam--I keepit that oath which I took to them--but I made another vow to mysell, that if I lived to see the day of his return, I would set him in his father's seat, if every step was on a dead man. I have keepit that oath too, I will be ae step mysell--He (pointing to Hatteraick) will soon be another, and there will be ane mair yet."
The clergyman, now interposing, remarked it was a pity this deposition was not regularly taken and written down, and the surgeon urged the necessity of examining the wound, previously to exhausting her by questions. When she saw them remove Hatteraick, in order to clear the room and leave the surgeon to his operations, she called out aloud, raising herself at the same time upon the couch, "Dirk Hatteraick, You and I will never meet again until we are before the judgment-seat-Will ye own to what I have said, or will you dare deny it?" He turned his hardened brow upon her, with a look of dumb and inflexible defiance. "Dirk Hatteraick, dare ye deny, with my blood upon your hands, one word of what my dying breath is uttering?"--He looked at her with the same expression of hardihood and dogged stubbornness, and moved
When the gipsy arrived at the hut, she produced the key; and when they entered, and were about to deposit her upon the bed, she said, in an anxious tone, "Na, na! not that way, the feet to the east;" and appeared gratified when they reversed her posture accordingly, and placed her in that appropriate to dead body.
"Is there no clergyman near," said Bertram, "to assist this unhappy woman's devotions?"
A gentleman, the minister of the parish, who had been Charles Hazlewood's tutor, had, with many others, caught the alarm, that the murderer of Kennedy was taken on the spot where the deed had been done so many years before, and that a woman was mortally wounded. From curiosity, or rather from the feeling that his duty called him to scenes of distress, this gentleman had come to the Kaim of Derncleugh, and now presented himself. The surgeon arrived at the same time, and was about to probe the wound; but Meg resisted the assistance of either. "It's no what man can do, that will heal my body, or save my spirit. Let me speak what I have to say, and then ye may work your will; I'se be nae hinderance.--But where's Henry Bertram?"--the assistants, to whom this same had been long a stranger, gazed upon each other.--"Yes!" she said, in a stronger and harsher tone, "Isaid Henry Bertram of Ellangowan. Stand from the light and let me see him."
All eyes--were turned towards Bertram, who approached the wretched couch. The wounded woman took hold of his hand. "Look at him," she said, "all that ever saw his father or his grandfather, and bear witness if he is not their living image?" A murmur went through the crowd--the resemblance was too striking to be denied. "And now hear me--and let that man," pointing to Hatteraick, who was seated with his keepers on a sea-chest at some distance-" let him deny what I say, if he can. That is Henry Bertram, son to Godfrey Bertram, umquhile of Ellangowan; that young man is the very lad-bairn that Dirk Hatteraick carried off from Warroch Wood the day that he murdered the gauger. I was there like a wandering spirit--for I longed to see that wood or we left the country. I saved the bairn's life, and sair, sair I prigged [*Begged] and prayed they would leave him wi' me--But they bore him away, and he's been lang ower the sea, and now he's come for his ain, and what should withstand him?--I swore to keep the secret till he was ane-an'-twenty--I kenn'd he believed to dree his weird [*Fulfil his destiny] till that day cam--I keepit that oath which I took to them--but I made another vow to mysell, that if I lived to see the day of his return, I would set him in his father's seat, if every step was on a dead man. I have keepit that oath too, I will be ae step mysell--He (pointing to Hatteraick) will soon be another, and there will be ane mair yet."
The clergyman, now interposing, remarked it was a pity this deposition was not regularly taken and written down, and the surgeon urged the necessity of examining the wound, previously to exhausting her by questions. When she saw them remove Hatteraick, in order to clear the room and leave the surgeon to his operations, she called out aloud, raising herself at the same time upon the couch, "Dirk Hatteraick, You and I will never meet again until we are before the judgment-seat-Will ye own to what I have said, or will you dare deny it?" He turned his hardened brow upon her, with a look of dumb and inflexible defiance. "Dirk Hatteraick, dare ye deny, with my blood upon your hands, one word of what my dying breath is uttering?"--He looked at her with the same expression of hardihood and dogged stubbornness, and moved