Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 07
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 07
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
The sound from above, which had thus startled the father and daughter,
now chained the ear of Leslie whose curiosity had been roused and
gratified by the strange scene he had witnessed. Footsteps now sounded
overhead; and, by and by, the tread was heard on the inside stairs
leading to the lower apartment. At the same moment, the door from which
Margaret had issued opened quickly, and the head of another individual
was presented. It was too dark for Leslie to ascertain who it was; but
the words "Escape--fly," repeated hurriedly, satisfied him that it was
the beadsman who was thus making an effort to save him. It was too late;
the sound on the stairs indicated a near approach, and Leslie behoved to
run the risk of being captured where he was, rather than make an effort
to escape, which would be too clearly ineffectual. Several individuals
now entered from the stair; and, by their statements, Leslie could
perceive that they were in search of him.
"The bird, if ever here caged, has flown," cried one, as he approached
the door and found it open.
"Then he cannot be far off," said another. "After him, and I shall wait
here that you may report progress."
Several of the company immediately rushed to the door.
"Leave the light, Dempster," cried the voice of the last, and a man took
from his cloak and placed on the floor a lantern. They were in an
instant gone, and he who was left began to pace along the dark room. He
was closely muffled up to the chin; and, as he continued to walk
backwards and forwards, he occasionally seized the folds of his riding
cloak, and wrapped them round him, ejaculating broken statements, as his
thoughts and feelings rose on the suggestion of his situation and
pursuits.
"I shall get Riddlestain for my pains," said he; "ay, even as I have got
Falconcleugh. The Church is a kind mother to her children; yet, has not
this gift been as yet useless to me? Why? Down, down, rebellious answer
of a coward heart--I am not afraid to occupy the house of him who
expired in the flames by the condemnation which I accomplished. Now is
the test. The bones of the Melvilles lie white in the Quarryheugh. I am
alone in their old residence, and tremble not."
And, as he argued against his fears, he quickened his step, listening,
at intervals, for sounds from without. Not altogether satisfied that he
was alone, he took the lantern and held it up so that the light might
penetrate into the corners of the chamber.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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