“The haill country was in a fever—the like of that ye ken was a disgrace to us a’—and it was in everybody’s mouth. The first body I thought of was Marion Lillie; the day before she had gone into Edinburgh—folk said it was to get her wedding dress. Eh, puir lassie! was that no a awfu’ story for a bride to hear?
“They gaed to apprehend Mr. Rutherford the same night, but he had fled, and was away before they got to Redheugh, no man kent whither. I met Christian that day; though I ca’ her Kirstin speaking to you, I say aye Miss Lillie to herself. In the one day that the murder was done she had gotten yon look. It feared me when I saw it. Her e’en were travelling far away, as if she could see to ony distance, but had nae vision for things at hand. ‘Eh, Miss Lillie!’ I said to her, ‘isna this an awfu’ thing; wha could have thought it of young Redheugh!’
“ ‘I will never believe it!’ she said, in a wild away: ‘he is not guilty. I will never believe it!’
“ ‘And Miss Marion,’ said I, ‘bless me, it will break the puir lassie’s heart.’
“ ‘I will not let her come home,’ said Kirstin, ‘I will send her to the west country to my father’s friends. She must not come home.’
“She would never say before that there was onything between her sister and young Redheugh—now she never tried to deny it, her heart was ower full.
“Weel, Miss Ross, the miserable young man had gotten away in a foreign ship, and they hadna been at sea aboon a week when she foundered, and a’ hands were lost; and there was an end of his crime and his punishment—they were baith buried in the sea.
“But no the misery of them—the puir lassie was taen away somegate about Glasgow, but the news came to her ears there. What could ye think, Miss Ross? It wasna like a common death—there was nae hope in it, either for this world or the next. It crushed her, as the hail crushes flowers. Within a fortnight after that, bonnie Marion Lillie was in her grave.
“Patrick was taen ill of a fever—they say the angry words he had spoken about Mr. Aytoun to young Redheugh lay heavy on his mind. Kirstin had to nurse him night and day—she couldna even leave him to see Marion buried. She died, and was laid in her grave among strangers. When Patrick was able to leave his bed, the two went west to see the grave—that was all that remained of their bonnie sister Marion.
“Since that time they have lived sorrowful and solitary, keeping company with naebody; the sore stroke has crushed them baith. Patrick never sought his doctor’s licence, nor tried to get a single patient. He has been ever since a broken-down, weak, invalid man.”