So saying, she gave him a hearty slap on the cheek; at which his companions laughing, Bruce became somewhat nettled, and, drawing out his sword, he pointed at the recent stains of blood upon it. “Be so good as to look here, my good lady,” said he, “and take very good note of all that I say, and more; for harkee, you must either renounce Providence, and all that I bid you renounce,—and you must, beside that, answer all the questions that I shall ever be after asking,—or, do you see, I am a great doctor—this is my very elegant lance—and I’ll draw the blood that shall soon ease you of all your stitches and pains.” “I dinna like your fleem ava, man—’tis rather ower grit for an auld body’s veins. But ye’re surely some silly skemp of a fallow, to draw out your sword on a puir auld woman. Dinna think, howanabee, that I care for outher you or it. I’ll let ye see how little I mind ye; for weel I ken your comrades wadna let ye fash me, e’en though ye were sae silly as to offer. Na, na; d’ye ever think that little bonny demure–looking lad there wad suffer ye to hurt a woman?—I wat wad he no! He has mair discreation in his little finger than you hae i’ your hale bouk.—Now try me, master doctor—I’ll nouther renounce ae thing that ye bid me, nor answer ae question that ye speer at me.” “In the first place, then, my good hearty dame, do you acknowledge or renounce the Covenant?” “Aha! he’s wise wha wats that, an’ as daft that speers.” “Ay, or no, in a moment—No juggling with me, old Mrs Skinflint.” “I’ll tell ye what ye do, master—if ony body speer at ye, gin auld Nanny i’ the Chapelhope renounces the Covenant, shake your head an’ say ye dinna ken.” “And pray, my very beautiful girl, what do you keep this old tattered book for?” “For a fancy to gar fools speer, an’ ye’re the first—Come on now, sir, wi’ your catechis—Wally–dye man! gin ye be nae better a fighter than ye’re an examiner, ye may gie up the craft.” Bruce here bit his lip, and looked so stern that Nanny, with a hysterical laugh, ran away from him, and took shelter behind Clavers. “You are a d‑‑d fool, Bruce,” said he, “and constantly blundering.—Our business here, mistress, is to discover, if possible, who were the murderers of an honest curate, and some of our own soldiers that were slain in this neighbourhood while discharging their duty; if you can give us any information on that subject, you shall be well rewarded.” “Ye’ll hear about the curate, sir—ye’ll hear about him—he was found out to be a warlock, and shot dead.—But ah, dear bairn! nane alive can gie you information about the soldiers!—It was nae human hand did that deed, and there was nae e’e out o’ heaven saw it done—There wasna a man that day in a’ the Hope up an’ down—that deed will never be fund out, unless a spirit rise frae the dead an’ tell o’t—Muckle fear, an’ muckle grief it has been the cause o’ here!—But the men war a’ decently buried; what mair could be done?” “Do you say that my men were all decently buried?”