The Men of the Moss-Hags: Being a history of adventure taken from the papers of William Gordon of Earlstoun in GallowayCrockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
History
The Men of the Moss-Hags: Being a history of adventure taken from the papers of William Gordon of Earlstoun in Galloway
Crockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
Covenanters -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction
So there I lay on the margin of the well, just as at the first I had
flung myself down, without so much as troubling thoroughly to shut the
door. I am sure that from the corner where the sentry turned, he might
have seen my boot-heel every time, had he but troubled to peep round the
door. But he had been so often within the well-house during his time on
guard, that he never once glanced my way. Also he was evidently elevated
by what he had gotten within the house from the serving maid, whatever
that might have been.
It was strange to hear his step alternately faint and loud as he came
and went. He paced from the well-house to the great gate, and from
thence to the corner of the tower. Back again he came, to-and-fro like
the pendulum of a clock. Once he took the butt of his musket and gave
the door, within which I lay, a sharp fling to. Luckily it opened from
without, so that the hasp caught as it came and I was shut within.
So there I lay without power to move all that day, and no one came near
me till late in the gloaming. For it was the custom at the Earlstoun to
draw the water for the day in the early morning, and that for the night
uses when the horses were suppered at bed-time. Sometimes my head seemed
to swell to so great a size, that it filled the well-house and was
pressed against the roof. Anon, to my thinking, it grew wizzened and
small, waxing and waning as I sickened and the shoots of pain ran round
my brows.
At last I heard feet patter slowly down the turret stair and out at the
door. Through the courtyard I heard them come towards me, and of a
sudden something sang in my heart, though I could have given no great
reason therefor.
Softly the door of the well-house opened, and one came in, giving a
little cry at so nearly stumbling over me. But no power had I to move or
speak, even though it had been Clavers himself who entered. My visitor
gently and lightly shut to the door, and knelt at my head.
"William!" said a voice, and I seemed in my phantasy to be running about
among the flowers as a child again.
I opened my eyes, and lo! it was Maisie of the Duchrae--she that had
been so kind to me. And the wonder of seeing her in my own house of
Earlstoun, where the garrison was abiding, was a better incitement to
renewed vigour than a double tasse of the brandy of France.
But there was no time for speech, so pulling me farther within, she bent
and whispered:
"William, I will go and bring your mother. The soldiers may not be long
away!"
So she rose to go out with her pail full of the water, for which she had
come.
Yet ere she went, she laid her hand upon my brow, and murmured very low,
lest the sentry should hear,
"My poor lad!"
Only that; but it was a thing which was mightily sweet to me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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