This speech, containing apparently the fatal secret, produced a great effect upon the bedridden patient, who rolled from side to side, and sawed the air with his sinewy hands, like one in a state of madness.
"We were speakin o' guardians for my dochters," said he, at last, "and I said I had a brither whase surname is Christie. You promised me consolation. Is this your comfort to a deein man? For twenty years I have hated the mention o' that dreadfu name; and now, when I am on my death-bed, speakin o' curators for my bairns, ye rack my ears by tellin me I am the brither o' Christiecleek! Would Christiecleek be a suitable guardian for my dochters? Speak, Agnes—say if ye think Christiecleek would tak care o' their bodies and their gowd as weel as he tended the victims o' the Highland cave?"
The wife saw she had gone too far, and begged his pardon for having made the suggestion.
"Ye will forgive me, David," said she, "for the remark I hae dune ye great injustice; for how is it possible to conceive that sae guid a man could be sae nearly related to a monster? But ye hae to explain to me the change o' name. How hae you and your brither different surnames?"
"Because," said the dying man, turning round, and staring with lacklustre eyes broadly in the face of his wife—"because I am Christiecleek!"
Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
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