derk as tar an’ pitch—but the settin moon shone even in their faces, and he saw them as weel as it had been fore–day. The tane was a wee bit hurklin crile of an unearthly thing, as shrinkit an’ wan as he had lien seven years i’ the grave; the tither was like a young woman—an’ what d’ye think? he says he’ll gang to death wi’t that it was outher our dochter or her wraith.”
Maron lifted up her eyes and her clasped hands toward the ceiling, and broke out with the utmost vehemence into the following raving ejaculation:—“O mercy, mercy! Watie Laidlaw!—O, may Him that dwalls atween the Sherubeams be wi’ us, and preserve us and guide us, for we are undone creatures!—O, Watie Laidlaw, Watie Laidlaw! there’s the wheel within the wheel, the mystery o’ Babylon, the mother of harlots, and abominations of the earth——”
“Maron Linton!—What are ye sayin?—Haud yer tongue, Maron Linton.”
“O gudeman, I thought it was the young fallows ye jaloosed her wi’—I wish it had. I wad rather hae seen her i’the black stool, in the place where repentance is to be hoped for; but now she’s i’the deil’s ain hands. I jaloosed it, Watie—I kend it—I was sure o’t lang syne—our bairn’s changed—she’s transplanted—she’s no Keaty Laidlaw now, but an unearthly creature—we might weel hae kend that flesh an’ blude cude never be sae bonny—Goodman, I hae an awsome tale to tell ye—Wha think ye was it that killed Clavers’ Highlanders?”
“That, I suppose, will remain a mystery till the day when a’ secrets will be cleared up, an’ a’ the deeds o’ darkness brought to light.”
“Sae may it be, Watie! Sae may it be! But it was neither ane nor other but our ain only dochter Kate.”
“Ye’re ravin, Maron—troth, ye’re gaun daft—a bit sklendry lassie o’ aughteen kill sae mony armed Highlanders?—Hout fye! keep within bounds, Maron.”
“I heard her wi’ thir lugs it’s i’my head—Stannin on that very room floor, I heard her gie the orders to her Brownie. She was greetin whan I cam in—I listened and heard her saying, while her heart was like to loup, ‘Wae’s me! O wae’s me! or mid–day their blood will be rinning like water!—The auld an’ the young, the bonny an’ the gude, the sick an’ the woundit—That blude may cry to Heaven, but the cauld earth will drink it up; days may be better, but waur they canna be! Down wi’ the clans, Brownie, and spare nae ane.’ In less than ten minutes after that, the men were found dead. Now, Watie, this is a plain an’ positive truth.”
Walter’s blood curdled within him at this relation. He was superstitious, but he always affected to disbelieve the existence of the Brownie, though the evidences were so strong as not to admit of any doubt; but this double assurance, that his only daughter, whom he loved above all the world besides, was leagued with evil spirits, utterly confounded him. He charged his wife, in the most solemn manner, never more, during her life, to mention the mysterious circumstance relating to the death of the Highland soldiers. It is not easy to conceive a pair in more consummate astonishment than Walter and his spouse were by the time the conversation had reached this point. The one knew not what to think, to reject, or believe—the other believed all, without comprehending a single iota of that she did believe; her mind endeavoured to grasp a dreadful imaginary form, but the dimensions were too ample for its reasoning powers; they were soon dilated, burst, and were blown about, as it were, in a world of vision and terror.
Chapter II
Before proceeding with the incidents as they occurred, which is the common way of telling a story in the country, it will be necessary to explain some circumstances alluded to in the foregoing chapter.
Walter Laidlaw rented the extensive bounds of Chapelhope from the Laird of Drummelzier. He was a substantial, and even a wealthy man, as times went then, for he had a stock of 3000 sheep, cattle, and horses; and had, besides, saved considerable sums of money, which he had lent out to neighbouring farmers who were not in circumstances so independent as himself.
He had one only daughter, his darling, who was adorned with every accomplishment which the country could then afford, and with every grace and beauty that a country maiden may possess. He had likewise two sons, who were younger than she, and a number of shepherds and female servants.
The time on which the incidents here recorded took place, was, I believe, in the autumn of the year 1685, the most dismal and troublous time that these districts of the south and west of Scotland ever saw, or have since seen. The persecution for religion then raged in its wildest and most unbridled fury: the Covenanters, or the whigs, as they were then called, were proscribed, imprisoned, and at last hunted down like wild beasts. Graham, Viscount of Dundee, better known by the detested name of Clavers, set loose his savage troopers upon those peaceful districts, with peremptory orders to plunder, waste, disperse, and destroy the conventiclers, wherever they might be found.
All the outer parts of the lands of Chapelhope are broken into thousands of deep black ruts, called by the country people moss haggs. Each of the largest of these has a green stripe along its bottom; and in this place in particular they are so numerous, so intersected and complex in their lines, that, as a hiding–place, they are unequalled—men, foxes, and sheep, may all there find cover with equal safety from being discovered, and may hide for days and nights without being aware of one another. The neighbouring farms to the westward abound with inaccessible rocks, caverns, and ravines. To these mountains, therefore, the shattered remains of the fugitives from the field of Bothwell Bridge, as well as the broken and persecuted whigs from all the western and southern counties, fled as to their last refuge. Being unacquainted, however, with the inhabitants of the country in which they had taken shelter—with their religious principles, or the opinions which they held respecting the measures of government—they durst not trust them with the secret of their retreat. They had watches set, sounds for signals, and skulked away from one hiding–place to another at the approach of the armed troop, the careless fowler, or the solitary shepherd; yea, such precautions were they obliged to use, that they often fled from the face of one another.
From the midst of that inhospitable wilderness—from those dark mosses and unfrequented caverns—the prayers of the persecuted race nightly arose to the throne of the Almighty—prayers, as all testified who heard them, fraught with the most simple pathos, as well as the most bold and vehement sublimity. In the solemn gloom of the evening, after the last rays of day had disappeared, and again in the morning before they began to streamer the east, the song of praise was sung to that Being, under whose fatherly chastisement they were patiently suffering. These psalms, always chaunted with ardour and wild melody, and borne on the light breezes of the twilight, were often heard at a great distance. The heart of the peasant grew chill, and his hairs stood all on end, as he hasted home to alarm the cottage circle with a tale of horror. Lights were seen moving by night in wilds and caverns where human thing never resided, and where the foot of man seldom had trode.
The shepherds knew, or thought they knew, that no human being frequented these places; and they believed, as well they might, that whole hordes of spirits had taken possession of their remote and solitary dells. They lived in terror and consternation. Those who had no tie in the country left it, and retreated into the vales, where the habitations of men are numerous, and where the fairy, the brownie, or the walking ghost, is rarely seen. Such as had friends whom they could not leave, or sheep and cattle upon the lands, as the farmers and shepherds had, were obliged to remain, but their astonishment and awe continued to increase. They knew there was but one Being to whom they could apply for protection against these unearthly visitants; family worship was begun both at evening and morning in the farmers’ hall and the most remote hamlet; and that age introduced a spirit of devotion into those regions, which
