"Ye hae a chronometer, man," said she—"it tells you the minutes now, it may enable me to show ye those that are to come!"
Andrew hesitated, and, with doubt and unwillingness, placed the chronometer in her hand.
Elspeth wore a short cloak of faded crimson; and in a sort of pouch in it, every coin, trinket, and other article of value which was put into her hands were deposited, in order, as she stated, to forward her mystic operations. Now, the chronometer had just disappeared in the general receptacle of offerings to the oracle, when heavy footsteps were heard descending the staircase leading to the hall. Poor Andrew, the ruler of the household, gasped—the blood forsook his cheeks, his knees involuntarily knocked one against another, and he stammered out—
"For Heaven's sake, gie me my chronometer!—Oh, gie me it!—we are a' ruined!"
"It canna be returned till the spell's completed," rejoined Elspeth, in a solemn and determined tone—and her countenance betrayed nothing of her dupe's uneasiness; while her husband deliberately placed his right hand upon a sort of dagger which he wore beneath a large coarse jacket that
was loosely flung over his shoulders. The males in his retinue, who were eight in number, followed his example.
In another moment, the laird, with wrath upon his countenance, burst into the hall.
"Andrew Smith," cried he, sternly, and stamping his foot fiercely on the floor, "what scene is this I see? Answer me, ye robber, answer me;—ye shall hang for it!"
"O sir! sir!" groaned Andrew, "mercy!—mercy!—O sir!" and he wrung his hands together and shook exceedingly.
"Ye fause knave!" continued the laird, grasping him by the neck—and dashing him from him, Andrew fell flat upon the floor, and his terror had almost shook him from his feet before—"Speak, ye fause knave!" resumed the laird; "what means your carousin' wi' sic a gang? Ye robber, speak!" And he kicked him with his foot as he lay upon the ground.