Outlaws -- Fiction; Rob Roy, 1671-1734 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 1689-1745 -- Fiction
“I agree to it, sir--I agree to it perfectly,” said Morris, shrinking
back as Campbell moved his chair towards him to fortify his appeal--“And
I incline, sir,” he added, addressing Mr. Inglewood, “to retract my
information as to Mr. Osbaldistone; and I request, sir, you will permit
him, sir, to go about his business, and me to go about mine also; your
worship may have business to settle with Mr. Campbell, and I am rather in
haste to be gone.”
“Then, there go the declarations,” said the Justice, throwing them into
the fire--“And now you are at perfect liberty, Mr Osbaldistone. And you,
Mr. Morris, are set quite at your ease.”
“Ay,” said Campbell, eyeing Morris as he assented with a rueful grin to
the Justice's observations, “much like the ease of a tod under a pair of
harrows--But fear nothing, Mr. Morris; you and I maun leave the house
thegither. I will see you safe--I hope you will not doubt my honour, when
I say sae--to the next highway, and then we part company; and if we do
not meet as friends in Scotland, it will be your ain fault.”
With such a lingering look of terror as the condemned criminal throws,
when he is informed that the cart awaits him, Morris arose; but when on
his legs, appeared to hesitate. “I tell thee, man, fear nothing,”
reiterated Campbell; “I will keep my word with you--Why, thou sheep's
heart, how do ye ken but we may can pick up some speerings of your
valise, if ye will be amenable to gude counsel?--Our horses are ready.
Bid the Justice fareweel, man, and show your Southern breeding.”
Morris, thus exhorted and encouraged, took his leave, under the escort of
Mr. Campbell; but, apparently, new scruples and terrors had struck him
before they left the house, for I heard Campbell reiterating assurances
of safety and protection as they left the ante-room--“By the soul of my
body, man, thou'rt as safe as in thy father's kailyard--Zounds! that a
chield wi' sic a black beard should hae nae mair heart than a
hen-partridge!--Come on wi' ye, like a frank fallow, anes and for aye.”
The voices died away, and the subsequent trampling of their horses
announced to us that they had left the mansion of Justice Inglewood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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