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
He pronounced the fearful word with an emphatic guttural tone, which
gave it a terrific effect. I opened the door to depart, and was
surprised to find that it would not go back sufficiently to allow me
to pass freely. The probable cause of the interruption flashed upon
my mind in an instant. Without speaking a word, I edged myself
through, and saw, lying at the back of the door, the body of the
unfortunate young woman, in a state of insensibility. I had presence
of mind enough not to carry her into the room where her father lay;
but, seeing the light of the kitchen at the further end of the long
gloomy passage, I snatched her up in my arms, and hastened with her
thither. Having laid her on a small truckle bed, whereon, I presume,
she usually slept, I found she was in a deep swoon; and,
notwithstanding that it was getting dark, and my time was expired, I
waited her recovery. As she lay before me, pale as a corpse, and as
I thought of the cause of her illness, and looked round in vain for
any one to give her assistance or consolation (the groans of her
father, which I indistinctly heard, being the only answer that would
have been given to a call for aid in a house more like a haunt for
ghosts and spectres than a residence for human beings), I felt the
impression of her peculiar misery pass over me, making me shudder as
if I had been seized with a fit of the ague. The frail, brittle
creature lying there, a victim of hysterics, fit only to be
cherished and guarded by a doting mother--placed in a large, empty,
gousty mansion--doomed to guard alone a suicide and a father, and,
perhaps, to wrestle with him through blood--her parent's blood!--for
the preservation of a remaining spark of a self-taken life! She at
length recovered, exhibiting the ordinary precursors of returning
consciousness--convulsive shiverings, rolling of the eyes, and
beating about with the hands. On perceiving me indistinctly, she
articulated--
"Death! death!--that was the word he spoke sae wildly.--Ah! I know it
now!--James H---- has lang tried to conceal it frae me; but I hae
discovered it at last. Can you save him, sir?--can you save the
faither o' her wha has scarcely anither freend on earth?"
A flood of tears followed this ejaculation. She tore her hair like a
maniac. I tried everything in my power to pacify her; but terror had
completely mastered her weak nerves, and she shook as the successive
frightful images suggested by her situation passed through her excited
and still confused mind.
"Is there no one in those parts," said I, "that can attend your
father, and assist you? Who is the James H---- you just now mentioned?"
"He is my cousin," replied she. "He lived with us for some time; but
my father and he quarrelled about a _razor_, which he said James
wanted to steal from him. But I see it now. There was nae theft.
James, poor James, was innocent, and wanted to save him; but they
concealed it frae me, and my cousin was turned away."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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