It
perhaps, however, behoves me here to relate all that I know of it,
and it is simply this:
On the first of June,1712 (well may I remember the day), I was
sitting locked in my secret chamber, in a state of the utmost
despondency, revolving in my mind what I ought to do to be free
of my persecutors, and wishing myself a worm, or a moth, that I
might be crushed and at rest, when behold Samuel entered, with
eyes like to start out of his head, exclaiming: "For God's sake,
master, fly and hide yourself, for your mother's found, an' as sure
as you're a living soul, the blame is gaun to fa' on you!"
"My mother found!" said I. "And, pray, where has she been all
this while?" In the meantime, I was terribly discomposed at the
thoughts of her return.
"Been, sir! Been? Why, she has been where ye pat her, it seems--
lying buried in the sands o' the linn. I can tell you, ye will see her
a frightsome figure, sic as I never wish to see again. An' the
young lady is found too, sir: an' it is said the Devil--I beg pardon,
sir, your friend, I mean--it is said your friend has made the
discovery, an' the folk are away to raise officers, an' they will be
here in an hour or two at the farthest, sir; an' sae you hae not a
minute to lose, for there's proof, sir, strong proof, an' sworn
proof, that ye were last seen wi' them baith; sae, unless ye can gie
a' the better an account o' baith yoursel an' them either hide or
flee for your bare life.
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