Chapter 33

Now, on my faith, this gear is all entangled,
Like to the yarn-clew of the drowsy knitter,
Dragg'd by the frolic kitten through the cabin,
While the good dame sits nodding o'er the fire!
Masters, attend; 'twill crave some skill to clear it.
OLD PLAY.

Edward, with the speed of one who doubts the steadiness of his own
resolution, hastened to prepare the horses for their departure, and at
the same time thanked and dismissed the neighbours who had come to his
assistance, and who were not a little surprised both at the suddenness
of his proposed departure, and at the turn affairs had taken.

"Here's cold hospitality," quoth Dan of the Howlet-hirst to his
comrades; "I trow the Glendinnings may die and come alive right oft,
ere I put foot in stirrup again for the matter."

Martin soothed them by placing food and liquor before them. They ate
sullenly, however, and departed in bad humour.

The joyful news that Halbert Glendinning lived, was quickly
communicated through the sorrowing family. The mother wept and thanked
Heaven alternately; until her habits of domestic economy awakening as
her feelings became calmer, she observed, "It would be an unco task to
mend the yetts, and what were they to do while they were broken in
that fashion? At open doors dogs come in."

Tibb remarked, "She aye thought Halbert was ower gleg at his weapon to
be killed sae easily by ony Sir Piercie of them a'. They might say of
these Southrons as they liked; but they had not the pith and wind of a
canny Scot, when it came to close grips."

On Mary Avenel the impression was inconceivably deeper. She had but
newly learned to pray, and it seemed to her that her prayers had been
instantly answered--that the compassion of Heaven, which she had
learned to implore in the words of Scripture, had descended upon her
after a manner almost miraculous, and recalled the dead from the grave
at the sound of her lamentations. There was a dangerous degree of
enthusiasm in this strain of feeling, but it originated in the purest
devotion.

A silken and embroidered muffler, one of the few articles of more
costly attire which she possessed, was devoted to the purpose of
wrapping up and concealing the sacred volume, which henceforth she was
to regard as her chiefest treasure, lamenting only that, for want of a
fitting interpreter, much must remain to her a book closed and a
fountain sealed. She was unaware of the yet greater danger she
incurred, of putting an imperfect or even false sense upon some of the
doctrines which appeared most comprehensible. But Heaven had provided
against both these hazards.

While Edward was preparing the horses, Christie of the Clinthill