At the time he totally disregarded them, taking them for mere rhodomontade; but now the idea was to him terrible, that his father’s spirit, like the prophet’s of old, should have been conjured up by witchcraft; and then again he bethought himself that no witch would have employed her power to prevent evil. In the end he knew not what to think, and so, taking the hammer from its rest, he gave three raps on the pipe drum (for there were no bells in the towers of those days), and up came John Burgess, Thomas Beattie’s henchman, huntsman, and groom of the chambers, one who had been attached to the family for fifty years, and he says, in his slow west-border tongue, “How’s thou now, callan’?—Is thou ony better-lins? There has been tway stags seen in the Bloodhope-Linns this morning already.”
“Ay, and there has been something else seen, John, that lies nearer to my heart to-day.” John looked at his master with an inquisitive eye and quivering lip, but said nothing. The latter went on: “I am very unwell to-day, John, and cannot tell what is the matter with me. I think I am bewitched.”
“It’s very like thou is, callan’. I pits nae doubt on’t at a’.”
“Is there anybody in this moor district whom you ever heard blamed for the horrible crime of witchcraft?”
“Ay, that there is; mair than ane or tway. There’s our neighbour, Lucky Jerdan, for instance, and her niece Nell,—the warst o’ the pair, I doubt.” John said this with a sly stupid leer, for he had admitted the old lady to an audience with his master the day before, and had eyed him afterwards bending his course towards Drumfielding.
“John, I am not disposed to jest at this time; for I am disturbed in mind, and very ill. Tell me, in reality, did you ever hear Mrs Jane Jerdan accused of being a witch?”
“Why, look thee, master, I dare nae say she’s a witch; for Lucky has mony good points in her character. But it’s weel kenned she has mair power nor her ain, for she can stop a’ the plews in Eskdale wi’ a wave o’ her hand, and can raise the dead out o’ their graves, just as a matter of coorse.”
“That, John, is an extraordinary power indeed. But did you never hear of her sending any living men to their graves? For as that is rather the danger that hangs over me, I wish you would take a ride over and desire Mrs Jane to come and see me. Tell her I am ill, and request her to come and see me.”
“I shall do that, callan’. But are thou sure it is the auld witch I’m to bring? For it strikes me the young ane maybe has done the deed; and if sae, she is the fittest to effect the cure. But I shall bring the auld ane.—Dinna flee intil a rage, for I shall bring the auld ane; though, gude forgie me! it is unco like bringing the houdie.”
Away went John Burgess to Drumfielding; but Mrs Jane would not move for all his entreaties. She sent back word to his master, to “rise out o’ his bed, for he wad be waur if ony thing ailed him; and if he had aught to say to auld Jane Jerdan, she would be ready to hear it at hame, though he behoved to remember that it wasna ilka subject under the sun that she could thole to be questioned anent.”