“‘’Tis only me, neighbour,’ would be the hypocrite’s reply, ‘searching for my stray pony:’ but when two persons had been executed and three transported, on his evidence, the nature of his employment became known, and he was execrated by the whole country.
“One moon-light night, as I was skinning a fine weather, which I had suspended and spread out on an old storm-beaten thorn, in a field adjoining the mountain, easy in mind, and so fearless of danger, that I whistled in a half hushed manner, as I followed my illicit occupation, a circumstance took place that wrought a violent change in the tone of my mind. My thoughts ran on the whimsicality of the idea of selling this very mutton to the rightful owner, on the morrow, which was market-day, and laughing inwardly at the thought: all at once, Stalking Simon, with a single stride, moved from behind a mossy dwarf thorn, gray as his own suit, and stood before me. My blood curdled with terror; but when the old stone-hearted wretch made the old Judas-like reply—
“‘It is only me, searching for my pony,’ I knew my danger, and my terror changed to savage ferocity against the vile informer, who had ruined so many of my friends and neighbours. I darted on him, grasped his collar with one hand, and with the other stabbed him to the heart.”
Watt’s tale was now ended, and he seemed to be terribly agitated at the recollection of old Simon’s murder, and of the dreadful position into which his crime had brought him.
“O God! what shall I do; where shall I fly?” he exclaimed, “I cannot return, for that road leads straight to the gallows, and in London I should be in hourly danger of being seen by somebody from the country. Since the perpetration of this deed of blood, I have not known an hour’s peace. Heaven is my witness, I could be content with slavery, and smile beneath the man-driver’s whip—could strip myself and wander the world in nakedness, or herd with beasts, to regain my former peace and innocence! Oh, I could labour till my bones ached, and my exhausted body dropped to the earth with fatigue, to be once more free from the keen stings of a guilty conscience!”
Twm was but a poor comforter; for his strict ideas of justice and retribution made him look upon Watt’s terrible agony as part of the punishment which he was called upon to pay for the awful crime of murder.
After all, Watt’s distress was due quite as much to the fear of the gallows, which he now saw to be in close proximity to him, as to regret and repentance for his unwarrantable deed.
Twm hardly recognized Watt as he sat there, his face blanched with fear, large drops of sweat rolling down his pale checks, with quivering lips and staring eyes, all showing the effect which his knowledge of the dreadful penalty which, from every prospect, speedily awaited him.
A grey-coated man now approaching the tavern, brought dreadful associations to Watt’s terrified conscience, and, in the utmost trepidation, he darted out at the back door of the inn, and ran across the fields with the speed of a pursued murderer.