Guy Mannering; or, The Astrologer — Complete by Walter Scott (good books to read in english .TXT) 📗

as Dinmont obviously did. He told his story accordingly, often interrupted by ejaculations, such as, ‘Weel, the like o’ that now!’ or, ‘Na, deil an that’s no something now!’

When our Liddesdale friend had heard the whole to an end, he shook his great black head--’Weel, I’ll uphaud there’s baith gude and ill amang the gipsies, and if they deal wi’ the Enemy, it’s a’ their ain business and no ours. I ken what the streeking the corpse wad be, weel eneugh. Thae smuggler deevils, when ony o’ them’s killed in a fray, they ‘ll send for a wife like Meg far eneugh to dress the corpse; od, it’s a’ the burial they ever think o’! and then to be put into the ground without ony decency, just like dogs. But they stick to it, that they ‘ll be streekit, and hae an auld wife when they’re dying to rhyme ower prayers, and ballants, and charms, as they ca’ them, rather than they’ll hae a minister to come and pray wi’ them--that’s an auld threep o’ theirs; and I am thinking the man that died will hae been ane o’ the folk that was shot when they burnt Woodbourne.’

‘But, my good friend, Woodbourne is not burnt,’ said Bertram.

‘Weel, the better for them that bides in’t,’ answered the store-farmer. ‘Od, we had it up the water wi’ us that there wasna a stane on the tap o’ anither. But there was fighting, ony way; I daur to say it would be fine fun! And, as I said, ye may take it on trust that that’s been ane o’ the men killed there, and that it’s been the gipsies that took your pockmanky when they fand the chaise stickin’ in the snaw; they wadna pass the like o’ that, it wad just come to their hand like the bowl o’ a pint stoup.’

‘But if this woman is a sovereign among them, why was she not able to afford me open protection, and to get me back my property?’

‘Ou, wha kens? she has muckle to say wi’ them, but whiles they’ll tak their ain way for a’ that, when they’re under temptation. And then there’s the smugglers that they’re aye leagued wi’, she maybe couldna manage them sae weel. They’re aye banded thegither; I’ve heard that the gipsies ken when the smugglers will come aff, and where they’re to land, better than the very merchants that deal wi’ them. And then, to the boot o’ that, she’s whiles cracked-brained, and has a bee in her head; they say that, whether her spaeings and fortune-tellings be true or no, for certain she believes in them a’ hersell, and is aye guiding hersell by some queer prophecy or anither. So she disna aye gang the straight road to the well. But deil o’ sic a story as yours, wi’ glamour and dead folk and losing ane’s gate, I ever heard out o’ the tale-books! But whisht, I hear the keeper coming.’

Mac-Guffog accordingly interrupted their discourse by the harsh harmony of the bolts and bars, and showed his bloated visage at the opening door. ‘Come, Mr. Dinmont, we have put off locking up for an hour to oblige ye; ye must go to your quarters.’

‘Quarters, man? I intend to sleep here the night. There’s a spare bed in the Captain’s room.’

‘It’s impossible!’ answered the keeper.

‘But I say it IS possible, and that I winna stir; and there’s a dram t’ ye.’

Mac-Guffog drank off the spirits and resumed his objection. ‘But it’s against rule, sir; ye have committed nae malefaction.’

‘I’ll break your head,’ said the sturdy Liddesdale man, ‘if ye say ony mair about it, and that will be malefaction eneugh to entitle me to ae night’s lodging wi’ you, ony way.’

‘But I tell ye, Mr. Dinmont,’ reiterated the keeper, ‘it’s against rule, and I behoved to lose my post.’

‘Weel, Mac-Guffog,’ said Dandie, ‘I hae just twa things to say. Ye ken wha I am weel eneugh, and that I wadna loose a prisoner.’

‘And how do I ken that?’ answered the jailor.

‘Weel, if ye dinna ken that,’ said the resolute farmer, ‘ye ken this: ye ken ye’re whiles obliged to be up our water in the way o’ your business. Now, if ye let me stay quietly here the night wi’ the Captain, I’se pay ye double fees for the room; and if ye say no, ye shall hae the best sark-fu’ o’ sair banes that ever ye had in your life the first time ye set a foot by Liddel Moat!’

‘Aweel, aweel, gudeman,’ said Mac-Guffog, ‘a wilfu’ man maun hae his way; but if I am challenged for it by the justices, I ken wha sall bear the wyte,’ and, having sealed this observation with a deep oath or two, he retired to bed, after carefully securing all the doors of the bridewell. The bell from the town steeple tolled nine just as the ceremony was concluded.

‘Although it’s but early hours,’ said the farmer, who had observed that his friend looked somewhat pale and fatigued, ‘I think we had better lie down, Captain, if ye’re no agreeable to another cheerer. But troth, ye’re nae glass-breaker; and neither am I, unless it be a screed wi’ the neighbours, or when I’m on a ramble.’

Bertram readily assented to the motion of his faithful friend, but, on looking at the bed, felt repugnance to trust himself undressed to Mrs. Mac-Guffog’s clean sheets.

‘I’m muckle o’ your opinion, Captain,’ said Dandie. ‘Od, this bed looks as if a’ the colliers in Sanquhar had been in’t thegither. But it’ll no win through my muckle coat.’ So saying, he flung himself upon the frail bed with a force that made all its timbers crack, and in a few moments gave audible signal that he was fast asleep. Bertram slipped off his coat and boots and occupied the other dormitory. The strangeness of his destiny, and the mysteries which appeared to thicken around him, while he seemed alike to be persecuted and protected by secret enemies and friends, arising out of a class of people with whom he had no previous connexion, for some time occupied his thoughts. Fatigue, however, gradually composed his mind, and in a short time he was as fast asleep as his companion. And in this comfortable state of oblivion we must leave them until we acquaint the reader with some other circumstances which occurred about the same period.

CHAPTER XVII

Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence? or why Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you. Macbeth.

Upon the evening of the day when Bertram’s examination had taken place, Colonel Mannering arrived at Woodbourne from Edinburgh. He found his family in their usual state, which probably, so far as Julia was concerned, would not have been the case had she learned the news of Bertram’s arrest. But as, during the Colonel’s absence, the two young ladies lived much retired, this circumstance fortunately had not reached Woodbourne. A letter had already made Miss Bertram acquainted with the downfall of the expectations which had been formed upon the bequest of her kinswoman. Whatever hopes that news might have dispelled, the disappointment did not