Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 11
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 11
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
"If you could keep me readin this _for ever_," he said, "yer object
would be served."
"I can give you no more of it," said I, conscious that, by indulging
his morbid appetite for blood, I had been leading him to his ruin.
"Then I must read thae volumes owre, and owre, and owre again," said
he; "and when I hae dune, I hae naething mair to interest me in this
dark, bleak warld."
He fell now into one of his fits of dejection, assuming his accustomed
attitude of folding his hands over his breast, and fixing his eyes on
the bed, while deep sighs and groans were thrown from his heaving
breast. It was necessary, I now saw, to take from him the book which
had produced an effect the very opposite of what I had intended and
expected. I took it up and placed it beside the other volume that was
lying on a side-table, with a view to take them away with me--blaming
myself sorely and deservedly for the injury I had done by
experimenting so rashly on the life and eternal interests of a human
being. As I moved away the volume, he observed me, and followed it
wistfully and sorrowfully with his eye.
"Ye hae dune weel," he said--"ye hae whetted my appetite for my ain
life; and it matters naething that the whetter and the whet-stane are
taen awa when they're nae mair needed!"
I felt keenly the reproach, for it was just. I might have taken credit
for a good intention; but my sympathy for the wretched being
restrained any wish I had to defend myself I endeavoured to change
the subject of our conversation, and turn his mind to a subject which
I knew engaged his interests and feelings more than anything else on
earth.
"Your daughter," said I, "is unwell. She seems to be miserable. I know
a change upon her both in mind and body, since I called here only a
few days ago. Her body is thin and emaciated, her cheek is blanched,
and her eye dimmed. These signs do not visit the young frame for
nothing. I fear she has heard of the deadly intention you still
persist in entertaining--to take away your own life. It is clear to me
that her sickly constitution cannot long stand against a terror and an
apprehension which even the aged and the strong cannot endure without
grievous injury to all the faculties of the body and mind. Sir, take
heed"--pausing and looking at him seriously and impressively--"you may
become _a daughter's murderer_ before your _cowardly_ courage enables
you to become _your own_!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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