"If you please," said Hazlewood, "Ishould be most happy to ride in the direction which they have taken. I am so well known in the country, that I scarce think any outrage will be offered in my presence, and I shall keep at such a cautious distance as not to appear to watch Meg, or interrupt any communication which she may make."
"Upon my word," said Pleydell (aside), "to be a sprig, whom I remember with a whey face and a satchel not so very many years ago, I think young Hazlewood grows a fine fellow. I am more afraid of a new attempt at legal oppression than at open violence, and from that this young man's presence would deter both Glossin and his understrappers.—Hie away, then, my boy—peer out—peer out—you'll find them somewhere about Derncleugh, or very probably in Warroch Wood."
Hazlewood turned his horse. "Come back to us to dinner, Hazlewood," cried the Colonel. He bowed, spurred his horse, and galloped off.
We now return to Bertram and Dinmont, who continued to follow their mysterious guide through the woods and dingles, between the open common and the ruined hamlet of Derncleugh. As she led the way, she never looked back upon her followers, unless to chide them for loitering, though the sweat, in spite of the season, poured from their brows. At other times she spoke to herself in such broken expressions as these—"It is to rebuild the auld house—it is to lay the corner-stone—and did I not warn him?—I tell'd him I was born to do it, if my father's head had been the stepping-stane, let alane his. I was doomed—still I kept my purpose in the cage and in the stocks;—I was banished—I kept it in an unco land;—I was scourged—I was branded—My resolution lay deeper than scourge or red iron could reach-and now the hour is come."
"Captain," said Dinmont, in a half whisper, "I wish she binna uncanny! [*Mad] her words dinna seem to come in God's name, or like other folk's. Odd, they threep [*Declare] in our country that there are sic things."
"Don't be afraid, my friend," whispered Bertram in return.
"Fear'd! fient a haet [*Not a whit.] care I," said the dauntless farmer, "be she witch or deevil; it's a' ane to Dandie Dinmont."
"Haud your peace, gudeman," said Meg, looking sternly over her shoulder; "is this a time or place for you to speak, think ye?"
"But, my good friend," said Bertram, "as I have no doubt in your good faith, or kindness, which I have experienced; you should in return have some confidence in me—I wish to know where you are leading us."
"There's but ae answer to that, Henry Bertram," said the sibyl.—"Iswore my tongue should never tell, but I never said my finger should never show. Go on and meet your fortune, or turn back and lose it—that's a' I hae to say."