They walked a little way out of hearing, but went not out of sight;
therefore, though the women were in a terrible quandary, they durst not
stir, for they had some hopes that this extraordinary person was on a
mission of the same sort with themselves, knew of them, and was going
to make use of their testimony. Mrs. Logan was several times on the
point of falling into a swoon, so much did the appearance of the young
man impress her, until her associate covered her face that she might
listen without embarrassment. But this latter dialogue roused different
feelings within them; namely, those arising from imminent personal
danger. They saw his waggish associate point out the place of their
concealment to Wringhim, who came towards them, out of curiosity to see
what his friend meant by what he believed to be a joke, manifestly
without crediting it in the least degree. When he came running away,
the other called after him: "If she is too hard for you, call to me."
As he said this, he hasted out of sight, in the contrary direction,
apparently much delighted with the joke.
Wringhim came rushing through the thicket impetuously, to the very spot
where Mrs. Logan lay squatted. She held the wrapping close about her
head, but he tore it off and discovered her. "The curse of God be on
thee!" said he. "What fiend has brought thee here, and for what purpose
art thou come? But, whatever has brought thee, I have thee!" and with
that he seized her by the throat. The two women, when they heard what
jeopardy they were in from such a wretch, had squatted among the
underwood at a small distance from each other, so that he had never
observed Mrs. Calvert; but, no sooner had he seized her benefactor,
than, like a wild cat, she sprung out of the thicket, and had both
hands fixed at his throat, one of them twisted in his stock, in a
twinkling. She brought him back-over among the brushwood, and the two,
fixing on him like two harpies, mastered him with ease. Then indeed was
he woefully beset. He deemed for a while that his friend was at his
back, and, turning his bloodshot eyes towards the path, he attempted to
call; but there was no friend there, and the women cut short his cries
by another twist of his stock. "Now, gallant and rightful Laird of
Dalcastle," said Mrs. Logan, "what hast thou to say for thyself? Lay
thy account to dree the weird thou hast so well earned. Now shalt thou
suffer due penance for murdering thy brave and only brother."
"Thou liest, thou hag of the pit! I touched not my brother's life."
"I saw thee do it with these eyes that now look thee in the face; ay,
when his back was to thee, too, and while he was hotly engaged with thy
friend," said Mrs. Calvert.
"I heard thee confess it again and again this same hour," said Mrs.
Logan.
"Ay, and so did I," said her companion. "Murder will out, though the
Almighty should lend hearing to the ears of the willow, and speech to
the seven tongues of the woodriff."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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