At first I thought I was in
a dream, and felt the weaver's beam, web, and treadle-strings with
my hands, to convince myself that I was awake. I was certainly
awake; and there was the door locked firm and fast as it was the
evening before. I carried my own black coat to the small window
and examined it. It was my own in verity; and the sums of money
that I had concealed in case of any emergency, remained
untouched. I trembled with astonishment; and on my return from
the small window went doiting in amongst the weaver's looms,
till I entangled myself, and could not get out again without
working great deray amongst the coarse linen threads that stood
in warp from one end of the apartment unto the other. I had no knife
whereby to cut the cords of this wicked man, and therefore was
obliged to call out lustily for assistance. The weaver came half
naked, unlocked the door, and, setting in his head and long neck,
accosted me thus:
"What now, Mr. Satan? What for art ye roaring that gate? Are
you fawn inna little hell, instead o' the big muckil ane? Deil be in
your reistit trams! What for have ye abscondit yoursel into ma
leddy's wab for?"
"Friend, I beg your pardon," said I.
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