“Providing ye die bravely, Simon,” said the young laird, “it is little matter what manner o’ death ye die; and as for your wife and weans, fear not; my faither’s house will provide for them. For, though I fall now, there will be other heirs left to the estate o’ Harden.”
While the prisoners thus conversed in the place of their confinement, Lady Murray spoke unto her husband, saying—“And what, Sir Gideon, if it be a fair question, may ye intend to do wi’ the braw young laird o’ Harden, now that he is in your power?”
He drew her gently by the arm towards the window, and pointing towards a tree which grew at the distance of a few yards, he said—“Do ye see yonder branch o’ the elm tree that is waving in the wind? To-morrow, young Scott and his kinsman shall swing there together, or hereafter say that I am no Murray.”
“O guidman!” said she, “it is because I was terrified that ye would be doing the like o’ that, that caused me to ask the question. Now, I must say, Sir Gideon, whatever ye may think, that ye are not only acting cruelly, but foolishly.”
“I care naething about the cruelty,” cried he; “what mercy did ever a Scott among them show to me or to mine? Lady Murray, the ball is at my foot, and I will kick it, though I deprive Scott o’ Harden o’ a head. And what mean ye, dame, by saying I act foolishly?”
“Only this, guidman,” said she—“that ye hae three daughters to marry, whom the world doesna consider to be ower weel-faured, and it isna every day that ye hae a husband for ane o’ them in your hand.”
“Sooth!” cried he, “and for once in your life ye are right, guidwife—there is mair wisdom in that remark than I would hae gien ye credit for. To-morrow, the birkie o’ Harden shall have his choice—either upon the instant to marry our daughter, Meikle-mouthed Meg, or strap for it.”
“Weel, Sir Gideon,” added she, “to make him marry Meg will be mair purpose-like than to cut off the head and the hope of an auld house, in the very flower o’ his youth; and there is nae doubt as to the choice he will mak, for there is an unco difference between them.”
“Dinna be ower sure,” continued the knight; “there is nae saying what his choice may be. There is both pluck and a spirit o’ contradiction in the callant, and I wouldna be in the least surprised if he preferred the wuddy. I ken, had I been in his place, what my choice would hae been.”
“I daresay, Sir Gideon,” replied the old lady, who was jocose at the idea of seeing one of her daughters wed, “I daresay I could guess what that choice would hae been.”