Chapter III.
Next morning the parents met, and it being agreed that all their little ones should be interred in one grave, and that the funeral should take place on the following day, the necessary preparations were accordingly made. In the meantime, Matty went over to her brother John Maxwell, to tell him, if possible, to persuade David Williams not to attend the funeral, as she was sure he could not stand it. “He hadna closed his ee,” she said, “since that terrible night, and had neither ate nor drank, but had just wandered up and down between the house and the fields, moaning as if his heart would break.” John Maxwell promised to speak to David, but when he did so, he found him so determined on attending, that it was needless to say any more on the subject.
On the morning of the funeral, David Williams appeared very composed; and John Maxwell was saying to some of the neighbours that he thought he would be quite able to attend, when word was brought that Geordie Turnbull had died that morning of lock-jaw, brought on, it was supposed, as much from the idea of his having been bitten by a witch, or one that was not canny, as from the injury done to him.
This news made an evident impression on David Williams, and he became so restless and uneasy, and felt himself so unwell, that he at one time declared he would not go to the funeral; but getting afterwards somewhat more composed, he joined the melancholy procession, and conducted himself with firmness and propriety from the time of their setting out till all the coffins were lowered into the grave. But the first spadeful of earth was scarcely thrown in, when the people were startled by his breaking into a long and loud laugh;—
“There she’s!—there she’s!” he exclaimed; and, darting through the astonished multitude, he made with all his speed to the gate of the churchyard.
“Oh! stop him,—will naebody stop him?” cried his distracted wife; and immediately a number of his friends and acquaintances set off after him, the remainder of the people crowding to the churchyard wall, whence there was an extensive view over the surrounding country. But quickly as those ran who followed him, David Williams kept far a-head of them, terror lending him wings,—till at length, on slackening his pace, William Russel, who was the only one near, gained on him, and endeavoured, by calling in a kind and soothing manner, to prevail on him to return. This only made him increase his speed, and William would have been thrown behind farther than ever, had he not taken a short cut, which brought him very near him.
“Thank God, he will get him now!” cried the people in the churchyard; when David Williams, turning suddenly to the right, made with the utmost speed towards a rising ground, at the end of which was a freestone quarry of great depth. At this sight a cry of horror arose from the crowd, and most fervently did they pray that he might yet be overtaken; and great was their joy when they saw that, by the most wonderful exertion, William Russel had got up so near as to stretch out his arm to catch him; but at that instant his foot slipped, and ere he could recover himself, the unhappy man, who had now gained the summit, loudly shouting, sprung into the air.
“God preserve us!” cried the people, covering their eyes that they might not see a fellow-creature dashed in pieces; “it is all over!”
“Then help me to lift his poor wife,” said Isabel Lawson. “And now stan’ back, and gie her a’ the air, that she may draw her breath.”
“She’s drawn her last breath already, I’m doubting,” said Janet Ogilvie, an old skilful woman; and her fears were found to be too true.