The lady yielded to his persuasion, and she had no sooner left
him, than he took an opportunity of filling his basket, with such
provisions as he could appropriate for the stranger, with the least
possible chance of detection; and putting a few of his otter-traps
over all, by way of a blind, he sallied forth in the direction of
the river. There he first most conscientiously made good his word,
by planting his traps, and then, as it was by that time dark, he
turned his steps up the side of Ben-Cruachan, and made the best of his
way towards the cliffs where the cave was situated. As he drew near
to its mouth, he was, in some degree, alarmed by observing a light
proceeding from it. He approached it with caution, and, on entering
it, he beheld the stranger sitting in the farthest corner of it, on
the bed of heather, with his figure drawn up and compressed together,
and his features painfully distorted, whilst his eyes were intently
fixed on vacancy. For a moment Inverawe doubted whether some fit had
not seized upon him; but he started at the noise made by the entrance
of his protector, and sprang up to meet him.
"Oh, Inverawe," said he, "what a relief it is to behold you! Oh what
a wretched weary time I have passed since you left me!"
"I have brought you something to comfort you," said Inverawe, so
shocked with his haggard appearance, and conscience-worn countenance,
as almost to recoil from him. "You know that I could not come
sooner. You seem to be exhausted with watching. You had better take
some of this wine."
"Oh, yes, yes, give me wine--a large cup of wine!" cried the stranger,
wildly seizing the vessel which Inverawe had filled, and swallowing
its contents with avidity. "Oh, such a time as I have spent!"
"This place is quite secure," said Inverawe. "You have no cause
for such anxiety, if you will only be prudent. But why do you keep
this light burning? Did I not tell you it was most dangerous to do
so. Some wandering or belated shepherd or huntsman might be guided
hither by it, and if your retreat should be once discovered, your
certain destruction must follow."
"I could not remain in darkness," replied the stranger, with a cold
shudder; "it was agonizing to do so! Horrid shapes continually haunted
me,--horrid, horrid shapes!--Even the shutting of my eyes could not
exclude them. Oh, such a night as last! never have I before endured
any thing so horrible."
"You must take your own way then," said Inverawe, as he spread out the
contents of the basket before him; "I am sorry that I can do nothing
better for you, but this is the best fare I could provide for you,
without exciting suspicion in my own house. Stay--here is a blanket
to help to make your bed somewhat more comfortable. And now, I must
hurry away.--Yet, before I go, let me once more caution you about
the light. Perhaps I had better make all secure, by taking the lamp
with me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account