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. 66 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 com posed 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 XLVI. Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence? or why Speak, I charge you. MACBETH. A 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. 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 prevent her from joining her friend in affording a cheerful reception to the Colonel, to whom she thus endeavoured to express the deep sense she entertained of his paternal kindness. She touched on her regret, that at such a season of the year he should have made, upon her account, a journey so fruitless. "That it was fruitless to you, my dear," said the Colonel, "I do most deeply lament; but for my own share, I have made some valuable acquaintances, and have spent the time I have been absent in Edinburgh with peculiar satisfaction; so that, on that score, there is nothing to be regretted. Even our friend the Dominie is returned thrice the man he was, from having sharpened his wits in controversy with the geniuses of the northern metropolis." "Of a surety," said the Dominie, with great complacency, “I did wrestle, and was not overcome, though my adversary was cunning in his art." “I presume,” said Miss Mannering, "the contest was somewhat fatiguing, Mr. Sampson?" "Very much, young lady-howbeit, I girded up my loins and strove against him." "I can bear witness," said the Colonel, "I never saw an affair better contested. The enemy was like the Mahratta cavalry; he assailed on all sides, and presented no fair mark for artillery; but Mr. Sampson stood to his guns, notwithstanding, and fired away, now upon the enemy, and now upon the dust which he had raised. But we must not fight our battles over again to-night-tomorrow we shall have the whole at breakfast." The next morning at breakfast, however, the Dominie did not make his appearance. He had walked out, a servant said, early in the morning;-it was so common for him to forget his meals, that his absence never deranged the family. The housekeeper, a decent old-fashioned Presbyterian matron, having, as such, the highest respect for Sampson's theological acquisitions, had it in charge on these occasions to take care that he was no sufferer by his absence of mind, and therefore usually waylaid him on his return, to remind him of his sublunary wants, and to minister to their relief. It seldom, however, happened |