When the visitor had gone, Mrs. Bertram, the mother of the baby boy, was very anxious to read the paper, for she was a superstitious lady; but after a struggle with her curiosity, she contented herself with making a small velvet bag, into which she sewed the paper, and the whole was then hung as a charm round the neck of her young child.
Time rolled on, and when little Harry Bertram grew to be four years old, he was already a great favourite with Dominie Sampson, who had acted as his tutor and was his constant companion. But just about this time the Laird of Ellangowan was appointed one of the magistrates of the county; and shortly after his appointment he began, little by little, to become very unpopular with the gipsies, with whom he had before been such a favourite. He thought it his duty now to punish and exterminate all amongst them who were poachers and trespassers, and caused even the poor beggars at his door to be sent to the workhouse.
One tribe of these gipsies, amongst whom Meg Merrilies was a kind of queen, had lived for a long time unmolested in a few huts in a glen upon the estate of Ellangowan, at a place called Derncleugh. It was a miserable and squalid village, but for all that Mr. Bertram was determined to evict them and all their poor belongings. He was no doubt doing as the law directed him, but, as far as concerned the inhabitants of Derncleugh, he was acting with great harshness, for Meg Merrilies had all along shown a strong affection for his boy, little Harry Bertram.
The day of eviction came at length, and a large body of men under the direction of Frank Kennedy, a custom-house officer, made their way to the miserable village, and on the gipsies refusing to leave peaceably, proceeded to unroof their cottages and pull down the wretched doors and windows. There was no resistance, and when the work was ended, the now homeless tribe gathered together the remnants of their property, and set forth with sullen and revengeful thoughts to look for a new settlement.
Mr. Bertram had been some distance from home on the day of the eviction; but on returning in the evening he met the troop of gipsies. Some of the men muttered angry remarks as he passed them on the road, but he thought it best to make no answer. Meg Merrilies had, however, lagged behind the rest, and was standing alone on a high bank above the road as the laird went by. Her dress was even stranger than usual, and her black hair hung loose about her, while her dark eyes flashed angrily. She had a light sapling in her hand, and as the laird looked up to where she stood, she said to him:
"Ride your ways, Laird of Ellangowan! ride your ways, Godfrey Bertram! This day have ye quenched seven smoking hearths—see if your own fire burn the blither for that. Ye have riven the roof off seven cottar houses—look if your own roof-tree stand the faster. Ride your ways, Godfrey Bertram! what do ye glower after our folk for? There's thirty hearts there that would have spent their life-blood ere ye had scratched your finger. Yes, there's thirty yonder, from the old wife of an hundred to the babe that was born last week, that ye have turned out o' their houses, to sleep with the black-cock in the moors! Ride your ways, Ellan- gowan! Our bairns are hanging at our weary backs; look that your braw cradle at home be the fairer spread up. Not that I am wishing ill to little Harry, God forbid! So ride your way, for these are the last words ye'll ever hear Meg Merrilies speak, and this is the last twig that I'll ever cut in the bonny woods of Ellangowan."
And having uttered this dark and threatening speech, she turned contemptuously from him, to join her comrades in misfortune.
Meanwhile, the smugglers under their captain, Dirck Hatteraick, had been carrying on their lawless trade as usual, and the Laird of Ellangowan was as determined to put them down as he had been to get rid of the gipsies. He was actively assisted in his endeavours against them by the same Frank Kennedy who had carried out the eviction of Meg Merrilies and her companions, and the smugglers had sworn to be revenged upon their enemy.
On the day that young Harry Bertram was five years old, Dirck Hatteraick's ship was in the bay outside the village of Kippletringan. A sloop of war in the king's service was pursuing it in order to seize the smuggled goods which were on board, when Frank Kennedy, looking out, saw that Hatteraick was likely to escape, as he had got his vessel round a headland called Warroch Point, where it was concealed from the sloop, unless someone went down to the Point and made a signal to the pursuers.
He accordingly mounted his horse and galloped off. On his way he happened to meet little Bertram, who was walking with the dominie, and as he had often promised to give the child a ride, he took him up on his nag, and rode off towards the Point.