“Leave the door, or I’ll fell you!” cried the lad, in breathless passion, shaking with his clutch of fury the strong thick-set frame which had double his strength; “what do you want here?--how do you dare to stop the funeral? take off your hand off the door, or I’ll fell you to the ground!” “Whisht, lad, whisht--it’s a sheriff’s officer; speak him canny and he’ll hear reason,” cried one of the farmers, hastily laying a detaining grasp on Huntley’s arm. The intruder stood his ground firmly. He took his hand from the door, not in obedience to the threat, but to the grief which burned in the youth’s eyes. “My lad, it’s little pleasure to me,” he said, in a voice which was not without respect, “but I must do my duty. Felling me’s no’ easy, but felling the law is harder still. Make him stand aside, any of you that’s his friend, and has sense to ken; there’s no mortal good in resisting; this funeral can not gang on this day.” “Let go--stand back; speak to _me_,” said Huntley, throwing off the grasp of his friend, and turning to his opponent a face in which bitter shame and distress began to take the place of passion; “stand aside, every man--what right have _you_ to stop us burying our dead? I’m his son; come here and tell me.” “I am very sorry for you, my lad, but I can not help it,” said the officer; “I’m bound to arrest the body of Patrick Livingstone, of Norlaw. It may be a cruel thing, but I must do my duty. I’m Alexander Elliot, sheriff’s officer at Melrose; I want to make no disturbance more than can be helped. Take my advice. Take in the coffin to the house and bid the neighbors back for another day. And, in the meantime, look up your friends and settle your scores with Melmar. It’s the best you can do.” “Elliot,” said Dr. Logan, over his shoulder, “do you call this law, to arrest the dead? He’s far beyond debt and trouble now. For shame!--leave the living to meet their troubles, but let them bury their dead.” “And so I would, minister, if it was me,” said Elliot, twirling his baton in his hand, and looking down with momentary shame and confusion; “but I’ve as little to do with the business as you have,” he added, hurriedly. “I give you my advice for the best, but I must do my duty. Grierson, look to thae youngsters--dang them a’--do ye ca’ that mair seemly? it’s waur than me!”