"I'll have no mercy on you, more than this," cried the Pensassenach, in a terrible voice. "If you will not confess yourself, your last moment is at hand;" and so saying, she ducked Mr. Dallas's head under the water. "O! O! O! Oh!--hech! ech!" cried Mr. Dallas, panting for breath; "I'm a dead man! I'm a dead man! Oh, Lord forgie me for sellin' pastes for precious stanes." "Come! is that all?" cried the Pensassenach, shaking him again. "Hae mercy on me for sellin' rock crystal for diamunts," cried Dallas. "Come! out with it all!" said the Pensassenach. "Oh! Och! Forgie me for sellin' bits o' ayster shells for pearls," cried Dallas again, "and pinchbeck for gold; and watches wi' worn out auld warks for new anes." "Come! nothing else to confess?" said the Pensassenach. "Oh, yes. Heaven help me, and hae mercy on me, for keepin' fause weights and a fause ell-wand," cried Dallas. "Are these all your sins, villain?" exclaimed the Pensassenach. "Oh, hey, aye, aye," said Dallas piteously, "and ower muckle, gude kens." "Well, then," said the Pensassenach, taking a more determined grasp of the sack; "now, that you have duly confessed, here goes." "Oh, stop, stop!" cried Dallas, in great fear. "Stop, stop! no yet! no yet! I hae mair to tell o' yet. I hae noo an' than picked up an odd silver spoon, or sae, or ony siccan wee article whan it cam in my way, just tempin' me like, in ony o' the hooses whaur I had quarters. But I never was a great fief--no, no." "'Twas you belike who stole my silver punch-ladle," said the Pensassenach. "I missed it immediately after you were last here." "I canna just charge my memory wi' the punch-ladle," said Mr. Dallas, unwilling to admit that he had in any way wronged the Pensassenach. "Nay, then, your thefts must have been too numerous for you to note such a trifling item as that," said the Pensassenach; "but it is clear you did steal my punch-ladle, so now you shall die for not confessing. Now!" "Oh, stop, stop, for mercy's sake!" cried Dallas, in livid apprehension. "I mind noo! I mind noo! I did tak' it--I did tak' the ladle! It shined sae tempin' through the glass door o' the bit corner cupboard, and the door was open, sae that I may amaist say that the deevil himsel' handed it oot till me, and pat it intil my very pack. But I'll never wrang you ony mair." "I'll take good care you shall not," said the lady; "you shall never wrong me, nor any one else more. So now, prepare, for this is your last moment." "Oh, mercy, mercy," cried the packman again. "I hae mair yet to confess! Oh, dinna droun me just yet!" "Well, be quick," said the Pensassenach; "what more have ye to tell?" "Oh, mercy, mercy!" cried Dallas. "That woman that I telled ye o' yestreen; that woman that I clippit out o' the Spey, was na just awthegither dead--" "What!" exclaimed the Pensassenach, in horror; "wretch that you are, did you murder the woman?"