“‘This is a sair time for ye, Mrs Mucklewhaum,’ quo’ I, as she cam ben frae her bedroom gauntin’.
“‘Hey! ho! hy! Saunders—I haena closed an ee thae twa lang nichts! But I hear there’s something gaun to be dune noo—Hey! ho! hy!’
“I stappit ben wi’ her to the laird’s room; and I saw in his face he was bespoken. Everything was laid out in the room, comfortable and in apple-pie order, befitting the occasion. The straughtin’ board, on whilk his death’s ee was fixed, stood up against the wa’; here lay a bowt o’ tippeny knittin’ for binding his limbs, and as mony black preens as wad hae stockit a shop; there hung his dead shirt, o’ new hamespun claith, providently airing afore the fire.
“‘Gin ye be thrang, Saunders, ye needna wait on the gudeman—ye ken his length—and gie him a deep biel,’ quo’ the gudewife; when just as I laid my hand upon his brow, he fixed his ee upon me like a hawk; an’ after anither kirkyard groan—the like I never heard from mortal man—he seemed reviving, an’ new strength to be filling his limbs, as he rose up on his elbow, on the bed, and laid his other hand on mine—sic an icy hand as I never felt abune grund!—thus speaking to me in his seeming agony:
“‘Saunders, do not pray for me; I have been long a dead man; lay your hand upon my bosom, and you will feel the flames of hell ascending to my soul!’ I laid my hand upon his heart, and I declare, sir, I thocht the flesh wad hae cindered aff the finger-banes! The heat was just awfu’!
“‘I was made life-renter of a sum which at my decease descends to the younger branches of my father’s family; and my life has been miserable to myself—a burden to others—and my death the desire of my kindred!’
“‘He’s raving, Saunders—he’s clean raving! An’ I canna persuade him he’s a deein’ man,’ quo’ Mrs Mucklewham, as she stapped forrit wi’ a red bottle, to gie him a quatenin’ dram.
“‘Haud, haud!’ quo’ I, ‘he’ll do without it,’ as the laird, raising his voice, began again to speak:
“‘I had but one friend in the world,—the highwayman that robbed me, and then laid my skull open with the butt-end of his whip;—would to God he had made me a beggar, and saved my soul! I had no worse wish to bestow on him than that he might be a life-renter for his poor relations. Saunders, look on the face of that unfeeling woman—more horrible to me than death itself;—look on my deserted death-bed, and my chamber decorated like a charnel house? Horrible as the sensation of death is, as his iron gropings are stealing round my heart, there is yet to me a sight more hideous, and which I thank God I shall be spared witnessing—when the dead shall bury the dead!’
“Mrs Mucklewham broke frae my weak hand—wrenched open his locked teeth, and emptied the hale contents down his throat—grunds an’ a’—o’ his ‘quatenin’ draught;’ I felt myself a’ ug, as I saw his teeth gnash thegither, an’ his lips close in quateness for ever.