CHAPTER XLII.
THE NICK O' THE DEID WIFE.
I went out, and the whole night seemed empty about me. The deep and widebasin between the hollow palms of the hills was filled with an eery lemeof flame, flickering up from the ground.
I took my way with as great strides as I could compass, back to thebower under the trees. The thunder rolled continuously about and about.At times it seemed to recede far away, but always sounding fromdifferent places, as though many peals were running races one with theother. Then the lightning flickered, and keen little arrows sped hitherand thither till the whole sky twanged like a harp.
It seemed a hundred miles to the shieling on the hill. And when I camenear I was astonished and greatly affrighted to hear the sound ofvoices, and at least one of them the voice of a man. A strange fear cameover me; hardly, I think, the fear of the King's men.
"I hae brocht wi' me my silver spune," said a voice that went to myheart; "I made siccar o' my silver spoon. Gin I hae to gang to theheather for the Covenant, at least I shall gang as a lady!"
It was my mother's voice, and I ran down to her, falling into her arms,and bidding her to be quiet in the same breath.
Wat had just arrived with my mother and little Margaret of Glen Vernock,who, winding herself about all our hearts, had become as her own childto my mother in the days of her loneliness. They were weary and in needof rest; but when I had told my news and the warning I had gotten fromGash Gibbie in the fearsome precincts of the hut of Corp-licht Kate,every one felt the need of at once forsaking the Bower of the Star andbetaking ourselves to Cove Macaterick--which, if not so pleasant orcommodious, was at least far more safe.
So we loaded us with Hugh Kerr's meal, and the little bits of thingsthat the lassies had gathered about them or brought with them. My mothercarried only an oaken staff in her hand, and in a satchel at her girdleher beloved silver spoon (with "Mary Hope" on it in antique letters),which her father had given her for her own when she learned to read, andfirst took her place at the table above the salt.
"O what wad he hae said, that was Lord President of Session in his time,gin he had seen his dochter Mary linkin' ower the heather wi' her coatskilted in her auld age?" my mother cried out once when we hurried her.For she had ever a great notion of her lineage--though indeed the Hopesare nothing to compare with the Gordons for antiquity or distinction.
"I think your father was 'at the horn' mair nor yince himsel', mither,"said I, remembering certain daffing talk of my father's.
"Aye, and that is just as true," said my mother, reconciling herself toher position, "forbye it is weel kenned that the wife aye wears thecockade of her lord."
And at the word I thought of my Lady of Lochinvar, and hearkened to Wattalking low to Kate McGhie. But as for me I kept my mother by my side,and left Maisie Lennox to herself, remembering the fifthcommandment--and knowing likewise that it would please Maisie best if Itook care of my mother.
Thus we came to Cove Macaterick.
Now the cove upon the hillside is not wet and chill as almost all seacaves are, where the water stands on the floor and drips from everycrevice. But it was at least fairly dry, if not warm, and had beenroughly laid with bog-wood dug from the flowes, not squared at all, butonly filled in with heather tops till the floor was elastic like themany-plied carpets of Whitehall.
There was, as I have said, an inner and an outer cave, one opening outof the other, each apartment being about sixteen feet every way, butmuch higher towards the roof. And so it remained till late years, when,as I hear from the herd of the Shalloch, the rocks of the gairy facehave settled more down upon themselves, and so have contracted thespace. But the cave remains to this day on the Back Hill of the Starover the waters of Loch Macaterick. And the place is still very lonely.Only the whaups, the ernes, and the mountain sheep cry there, even asthey did in our hiding times.
We gave the inner (and higher) room to the women folk, and divided thespace with a plaid hung up at the stone steps which formed a doorway.
We found Anton Lennox much recovered, but still very weak and pale. Hesat propped up on his heather bed against the side of the cave. Hiscountenance appeared stern and warlike, even when it was too dark tosee, as it mostly was, his great sword leaning against the wall by hisside.
I need not tell of the joy there was when Maisie Lennox greeted herfather, and we that had been so wide scattered drew together once again.But as soon as I had told Wat of the happenings at the hut of Corp-lichtKate, nothing would serve him but we must set out and try to interceptthe witch from fulfilling her mission. For if she brought the soldiersupon us, our trail from the bower among the trees was fresh and might befollowed. Wat was determined at all costs to turn the witch; and, havingbrought her to her house, to keep a watch upon her there--at least tillthe rain had washed away our foot-prints down the mountain side, andconfused them among the moss-hags.
So leaving most unwillingly the snug and sheltered place of CoveMacaterick, we stepped out into the gloomy and threatening night. Thewild-fire still flickered, and the thunder rolled continuously; but therain held off. The natural had mentioned that his mother was making overthe hills toward Straiton, where for the time being Mardrochat, theinformer, dwelt, and where was quartered a troop of horse for theoverawing of the country.
We decided, therefore, that we should take our course in that direction,which led past Peden's hut, where the wanderer had abode so often. Itwas an uncanny night, but in some fashion we stumbled along--now fallinginto moss-hags almost to the waist, and now scrambling out again, and soon without a word of complaining. Wat's attire was not now such as thathe had donned to visit my Lady Wellwood. It was but of stout hodden greyand a checked plaid like the rest.
So we mounted shoulder after shoulder of heathery hillside, like vesselsthat labour over endless billows of the sea against a head wind. Thethunder cloud which seemed to brood upon the outer circle of the hills,and arch over the country of Macaterick and the Star, now grumblednearer and louder. Not seldom there came a fierce, white, wimplingflash, and the encompassing mountains seemed ready to burn up in theglare. Then ensued darkness blacker than ever, and the thunder shakingthe world, as though it had been an ill-builded house-place withskillets and pans clattering on the wall.
We had been thus walking for some while, bearing breast to the brae allthe time, and leaning forward even as a horse leans to its collar. Wecame in time near to the height of the pass. We could not see a yardbefore us. But suddenly we felt the ground begin to level in front; andlo! in a moment we were in the throat of the defile, with the hillsblack above us on either side. Suddenly there came a terrible whiteflash of lightning, brighter and longer continued than any we had seen.The very air seemed to grow blue-black like indigo. The thunder tore theheavens, galloping without ceasing. Flash followed rending flash.Immediately before us on a hillock we saw a wondrous sight. There satGash Gibbie, the mis-shaped idiot, crouched squat like a toad, at thehead of a woman who lay with her arms straight at her sides, as thoughstretched for burial.
As we stood illumined against the murky blackness of the pass, themonstrous thing caught sight of us, and waved his hands, dancingmeantime (as it seemed) upon spindles of legs. How he had come so farand so swiftly on such a night I cannot tell. But without doubt, therehe was on the highest rock of the pass, with the dead woman stretched athis feet, and the fitful blue gleam of the lightning playing about him.And I warrant you it was not a comely or a canny sight.
"Come ye here," cried the idiot lad, wavering above us as though he weredancing in the reek of the nether pit, "an' see what Yon has done to mymither. I aye telled her how it wad be. It doesna do to strive wi' Yon.For Yon can gie ye your paiks so brave and easy. But my mither, she wadnever hear reason, and so there she lies, dead streeked in the 'Nick o'the Deid Wife.' YON has riven the life frae my mither!"
We were close at his side by this time, and we saw an irksome sight,that shook our nerves more than the thunder. A woman of desperately evilcountenance lay
looking past us, her eyes fixed with an expression ofbitter wrath and scorn upon the black heavens. Her face and hands werestained of a deep crimson colour, either by the visitation of God ormade to seem so by the flickering flame of wild-fire that played aboutus.