He saw her from the first, but could not move--something nailed him to the spot. She approached, but for a minute was so breathless and exhausted, that she could not speak--"Saunders Skelp!"--at length moaned the poor broken-hearted girl--"Saunders!--ye are going to tak the sacrament the morn," she paused, and leant, "_peching_ on her staff," as the MS. hath it--"Ay, Saunders, ye are going to commemorate our Saviour's death, and--and--I am gaun to dee, Saunders."
"The tears ran down her cheeks, and I was like to be worried mysell, for greet I couldna.
"'Saunders. Is it no written, that if thou hast ought against thy brother, thou shalt leave thy gift before the altar, and first go and be reconciled unto thy brother?'
"'Even sae--sae is it even written, Jessy.'
"'Time _has_ been when you aften said I was dearer till you than mony sisters--but that's past and gane--gane like the last winter's snaw; yet is Saunders Skelp's hate sae deadly that he refuses to tak off Jessy Miller's parting and sin-clogged soul, the grievous weight of his own bitter, bitter curse.' She waited lang for an answer, but I gied her nane--'I cam to ask yere forgiveness, Saunders--_and I hae asked it_'--here she grat as if her heart was bursting--'and--and--oh God, whom I have offended, cast me not off in this my utmost need--_and I have been refused_--one struggle more, and my task is ended, Saunders'--and she caught my hand in baith of hers whether I would or no--they were cauld, cauld as lead--'I hae deserved this; but hand my heart, _I didna expect it_--Saunders, I have only now to say God bless you, and to bid you fareweel for ever.' She sank down on the whin-stane at my feet--the fiend had seared my heart harder than it, and I never even offered to help her up.
"I thought she was _awa_ awthegither; at last, gathering strength, she spak the last words I ever heard her utter.
"'I am come to clear Moses Bland, and to richt you, Saunders.'
"Oh, the sweet low music of that mournful voice!
"'The young laird--Mr Adderfang'--she _gasped_, it could nae langer be called speaking--'that _serpent_, William Adderfang, has been the ruin o' me--ruin here, and--and--condemnation in the world to come.'
"She bent her head, and hid her face with her wasted fingers, through which the hot tears fell fast as the rain-drops in the breeze from the shower-bedashed tree above us--when the sound of hound and horn once more swelled in the gale; and first the fox came over the wall above us, then the whole pack, tumbling tumultuously one over another down the face of the rocky precipice, twinkling hither and thither, and dropping from stone to cliff like the breeze-scattered foam of a cataract, _then one solitary cavalier, who was dashed, horse and man, to the ground, close to us where we sat_, the rider falling senseless, and the blood flowing from his mouth and ears. The gallant horse, however, struggled to get on his legs again, until he reached the brink of the old quarry close beneath us, over which he rolled, dragging the wounded man along with him by the stirrup, and disappeared, rattling and rasping among the loose stones and bushes. Jessy was roused in an instant; she had caught a glimpse of the wounded man's face as he was dragged past her, and giving a loud shriek, as if her heart had split in twain, dashed herself down the precipice after him, and vanished for ever from my eyes amongst the furze--_it was William Adderfang!_"