“Speak not o’ that, sweet maiden,” said the laird; “but tell me, what says my mother? How does she bear the fate o’ her son; an’ hoo does she promise to avenge my death?”
“She is as one whose heart-strings are torn asunder,” was the reply, “and who refuses to be comforted; but she wad rather hae another dochter than lose an only son; an’ her prayer is, that ye will live and mak her happy, by marrying the maiden ye despise.”
“What!” he cried, “has even my mother so far forgot herself as to desire me to marry the dochter o’ oor enemy, whom no other man could be found to take! It shall never be. I wad obey her in onything but that.”
“But,” said the maiden, “I still think ye are wrong to reject and despise puir Meg before that ye hae seen her. She may baith be better an’ look better than ye are aware o’. There are as guid as Scott o’ Harden who hae said, that were it in their power they wad mak her their wife; an’ ye should remember, sir, that it will be as pleasant for you to hear the blithe laverock singing ower yer head, as for another person to hear the wind soughing and the long grass rustling ower yer grave. Ye hae another day to live, an’ see her, an’ speak to her, before ye decide rashly. Yours is a cruel doom, but Sir Gideon is a wrathfu’ man; an’ even for his ain flesh an’ bluid he has but sma’ compassion when his anger is provoked. Death, too, is an awfu’ thing to think aboot; an’, therefore, for yer ain sake, an’ for the sake o’ yer puir distressed mother an’ sisters, dinna come to a rash determination.”
“Sweet lass,” replied he, “I respect the sympathy which ye evince; but never shall Sir Gideon Murray say that, in order to save my life, he terrified me into a marriage wi’ his daughter. An’ when my puir mother’s grief has subsided, she will think differently o’ my decision.”
“Weel, sir,” said the maiden, “since ye will not listen to my advice—an’ I own that I hae nae richt to offer it—I will send ane to ye whose persuasion will hae mair avail.”
“Whom will ye send?” inquired the laird; “it isna possible that ye can hae been playing me false?”
“No,” she replied, “that isna possible; an’ from her that I will send to you, you will see whether or not I hae kept my word, guid and truly, to fulfil yer message.”
So saying, she withdrew, leaving him much wondering at her words, and yet more at the interest which she took in his fate. But she had not long withdrawn when the prison-door was again opened, and Lady Scott rushed into the arms of her son.
“My mother!” cried he, starting back in astonishment—“my mother!—hoo is this?”