"Oh, then!" replied he, "be not angry at what I'm going to say; and mind, that, on your answer depends the future happiness or misery o' a fellow-being. Yes, Helen! upon your word depends life and hope—madness and misery; I say life and hope—for, if ye destroy the one, the other winna hand lang oot; and I say madness—for, oh! if ye had been a witness o' the wild and the melancholy days and nights that I hae passed since I learned that ye had left me, and felt my heart burning and beating, and my brain loup, louping for ever, like a living substance, and shooting and stinging through my head, like stings o' fire, till I neither kenned whar I was, nor what I did; but stood still, or rushed out in agony, and screamed to the wind, or gripped at the echo o' my voice!—I say, if ye had seen this, ye wadna think it strange that I made use o' the words. And, now, as ye have heard nothing from——from Henry Blackett, from the night that the ceremony o' marriage was performed—and if ye should hear nothing o' him for seven years to come, ye will then, ye ken, be at liberty—and will ye say that I may hope, then? O Helen, woman! say but the word, and I'll wait the seven years, as Jacob did for Rachel, and count them but a day if my Helen will bless me wi' a smile o' hope!"
As he thus spoke, Mrs Holditch bustled into the room, exclaiming—"O sweet lady, here be one coming thee knows—see! see! there be my husband, and our own dear young master Henry, come to make us happy again!"
"My Henry!" exclaimed Helen, springing towards the door—"where—oh, where?".
"Here, my beloved! here!" replied Henry, meeting her on the threshold.
Poor Laird Howison stood dumb, his mouth open, his eyes extended, staring on vacancy. He beheld the object of his delirious love sink into her husband's arms, and saw no more. He clasped his hands together, and, with a deep groan, reeled against the wall. Henry and Helen, in the ecstasy of meeting each other, were unconscious of all around, and Willie Galloway was the first to observe his countryman.
"Preserve us! you here, too, Mr Howison!" said he. But the features of the laird remained rivetted in agony, and betrayed no symptom of recognition. The mention of the laird's name by Willie, arrested the attention of Henry, and approaching him, he said—"Sir, to you I ought to offer an apology."
The unhappy man wildly grasped the hand of Henry, and seizing also Helen's, he exclaimed—"It is a' owre now! The chain is forged, and the iron is round my soul. But I bless you baith. Tak her! tak her!—and hear me, Henry Blackett—as ye would escape wrath and judgment, be kind to her as the westlin' winds and the morning dews to the leaves o' spring. Let it be your part to clothe her countenance wi' smiles and her bosom wi' joy! Fareweel, Helen!—look up!—let me, for the last time, look upon your face, and I will carry that look upon my memory to the grave!"
She gazed upon him wildly, crying—"Stay!—stay!—you must not leave us!"
"Now!—now, it is past!" he cried; "it was a sair struggle, but reason mastered it! Fareweel, Helen!—fareweel!"
Thus saying, he rushed out of the house, and Willie Galloway followed him; but, although fleet of foot, he was compelled to give up the pursuit.