Part 6 (1/2)

The Sheriff went over to Royston Scott, and said that after what had happened on the field, the arbitration proceedings behoved to be adjourned to some future day, and also enjoined him to retire, and to keep the peace. Altoncroft obeyed, and departed with his followers.

”There's the main danger blawn ower,” said the gaberlunzie, viewing with much satisfaction the rude Laird's retreat. ”We winna toom a tankard wi' the gentle Johnston the nicht; and wha kens whether he'll see the morn? We'll tak' the road, wi' your leave, master, as lang as the play is fair.”

What road?--whither were they going? Ruthven indicated his intended destination, but did not desire to return to Greenholm, where he had changed his dress; and he added that he wished his route to be taken, so far as practicable, by paths not commonly frequented, to avoid any other mischance. The gaberlunzie was ready to accompany him by any route.

They left the Deadman's Holm without attracting much notice, and were speedily in the midst of solitudes. As the day wore to its close, they made a halt on the edge of a wood, and what Harthill's wallet yet contained, in the shape of viands, formed a substantial repast. This done, the journey was resumed while the sun was setting.

How red he glares amongst those deepening clouds, Like the blood he predicts.

Soon, through the fading l.u.s.tre above Sol's ocean-bed, Hesperus, the lover's star, sparkled brightly. Our wayfarer's path now led near a sluggish stream which skirted a hilly chain, and beyond the heights lay a village, where, as Harthill said, they might find lodgement for the night; but it had this disadvantage, that it was part of the barony pertaining to Altoncroft's kinsman, the newly-made Sheriff, and, therefore, Ruthven thought that their more prudent course would be to seek a less questionable place of rest. But, in short, to tell the truth, he was secretly desirous of parting, as soon as might be, with Willie, and of pursuing his course alone to Berwick, where he might obtain s.h.i.+pping for France--a country which afforded opportunities, to friendless and adventurous young Scots like himself of carving out their fortunes with their swords.

The twilight darkened, and the path grew wilder. Occasionally the harsh screams of birds of prey smote on the ear, and seemed to chill the gaberlunzie's blood.

”I dinna like the cries o' thae birds ava--they aye bode ill,” he said. ”Nae doubt they think to pyke our banes belyve. Shue! shue! ye evil emissaries! Our Lady help us! was yon a groan? Heard you naething, master?”

”It sounded like the fall of a fragment of rock from yonder cliff,”

answered Ruthven, with indifference.

Harthill shook his head, as if dubious of the explanation. His mind engrained with superst.i.tious frailty, he began to hear uncanny sounds all around him. Every sough of the wind among the brackens was a dread presage. Hurrying his steps, he frequently left Ruthven in the rear; and to every half-jocular remonstrance of the youth, whose strength of limb was fast failing, Willie had but one apology:--

”It's a bogley part this after dark. I've heard as mony stories aboot ugsome sichts seen here as there's teeth in my head. I wadna put ower a nicht here, no for the crown o' Scotland. Haste you, master, haste you! It's for your ain gude.”

Without doubt he meant well. But Ruthven flagged more and more, and, after climbing a gra.s.sy eminence, which was surmounted by the ruins of a place of strength, he protested that, happen what might, he would go no farther.

”You're in jest, master?” cried Harthill, scratching the side of his head in sheer vexation.

”We can rest here till daylight,” replied Ruthven. ”The place is lone, and therefore safe.”

”Safe?” echoed Willie, with somewhat of asperity. ”If we be sae daft as to rest here, we may ne'er see daylicht. Be advised, master, be advised.”

Ruthven, however, was not to be advised. He advanced towards the ruin.

The gaberlunzie followed with laggard pace, and shrank back when an owl started out, and, hooting dolefully, flew over their heads.

”There's a warning!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Willie. ”The place is fu' o' uncanny things. Come back, for ony sake.”

But Ruthven still advanced. The ruin, in its palmy days, had consisted of a ma.s.sive square tower of two storeys above the ground floor, with battlemented roof, and surrounded by an outer wall, which was now broken down to heaps of rubbish, overgrown with coa.r.s.e vegetation. The roof had fallen in, and so had both floors, leaving only a sh.e.l.l of crumbling, grim walls: the courtyard was miry: and the arched portal preserved no vestige of the iron-bound door which had once barred pa.s.sage. As Ruthven was about to pa.s.s inward, he was stayed for a moment by the almost hysterical entreaties of his companion, who now a.s.sumed a tone of wailing.

”I shall lodge here till morning,” answered the youth determinedly.

”If anything earthly molests me, I carry a stout heart and a trusty blade; and unearthly things I fear not.”

The gaberlunzie held up his hands in deprecation of such a foolhardy resolve; but at length he said--”Aweel, master, a wilfu' man maun ha'e his ain way, and I maun leave you for the nicht. May a' haly saints watch ower you! I'll gang-on to the neist bigging, and in the morning I'll come back; but I fear the morning winna find you a living wicht.”

”Never fear; but do as you say,” responded Ruthven. ”Take this small guerdon”--bestowing some money. ”You'll find me in the morning hale and sound. Good-night, and good luck.”

The gaberlunzie was loth to part; but his superst.i.tious nature prevailed, and he took leave, reiterating his promise to return in the morning.

Ruthven entered the ruined pile. The interior was heaped with fallen stones and debris. Casting his eye upward, as from the bottom of a deep well, he saw the dim welkin overhead, which was becoming sprinkled with golden cressets.

Star after star, from some unseen abyss, Came through the sky, like thoughts into the mind, We know not whence.