Now, mark ye, sir—for this is one of the most singular things in the history of our village—about three years after the melancholy deaths of Esther and her father, the laird, wi' a pack o' young men as thoughtless and wicked as himself, came down to the Ha'. It was plain as noonday that the murder of a young lassie, her bairn, and her honoured father, had never cost the young libertine a thought. He returned to all his former profligacy, as a sow returns to its wallowing in the mire.
He was returning, towards evening, with three or four of his companions from an otter-hunt, and was within a quarter-of-a-mile of the Ha', when he was met by two strangers—the one a youth, and the other a man of middle age.
"Stand!" cried the young man, sternly.
"What do you want, fellow?" inquired the laird, proudly.
"Dismount," retorted the other, "and take this," presenting to him a pistol. "I come to avenge the murder of Esther Anderson and her father; and," added he, "wi' your blood to wash the bruise ye have inflicted on my wounded heart. Did ye think, because her brave brother was with the dead, that there was none left to revenge the ruin of her innocence? Beneath the very tree where we now stand, she plighted me her first vow, and we were happy as the birds that sang upon its branches, until ye, as a serpent, crossed our path. Dismount, Laird Cochrane, if ye be not coward as weel as villain."
"Alexander Elliot," replied the laird, "are ye not aware that I am a magistrate, and have power to commit ye even now as a deserter. Begone, sir, and take your hand from my horse's head; for it becomes not a gentleman to quarrel wi' such as you."
"Dismount, ye palsy-spirited slave!" cried Alexander, "and choose your weapon and your distance. Let your friends that are wi' you see that ye have fair play. Dismount, or I will shoot ye dead where ye sit." And as he spoke he dragged him from his horse.
It was an awful tragedy to take place in a peaceable corner of the earth like this. The stranger that accompanied Alexander took the pistols, and addressing one of the gentlemen that were wi' the laird, said, coolly, "This business must be settled, sir, and the sooner the better. Choose ye one of these weapons, and let the principals take their ground."
They did take their ground, as it was termed, and their pistols were levelled at each other's heart. Guilt and surprise made the laird to tremble, but revenge gave steadiness to the hand of young Elliot. Both fired at the same moment, and with a sudden groan the laird fell dead upon the ground.
Some said that the earth was weel rid of a prodigal; while others thought it an awful thing that he should have been cut off in such a manner, in the very middle of his iniquities and career of wickedness; and it was generally regretted that he should have fallen by the hand of a lad so universally respected as Alexander Elliot. Such, sir, was the end of the young laird; but what has become of Alexander is more than any one in these parts can tell. I have just now a few words to say concerning