the country opened wide and uninclosed for
about a mile or two on the one hand, and on the other were thick
plantations of considerable extent.

Meg, however, still led the way along the bank of the ravine out of which
they had ascended, until she heard beneath the murmur of voices. She then
pointed to a deep plantation of trees at some distance. 'The road to
Kippletringan,' she said, 'is on the other side of these inclosures. Make
the speed ye can; there's mair rests on your life than other folk's. But
you have lost all--stay.' She fumbled in an immense pocket, from which
she produced a greasy purse--'Many's the awmous your house has gi'en Meg
and hers; and she has lived to pay it back in a small degree;' and she
placed the purse in his hand.

'The woman is insane,' thought Brown; but it was no time to debate the
point, for the sounds he heard in the ravine below probably proceeded
from the banditti. 'How shall I repay this money,' he said, 'or how
acknowledge the kindness you have done me?'

'I hae twa boons to crave,' answered the sibyl, speaking low and hastily:
'one, that you will never speak of what you have seen this night; the
other, that you will not leave this country till you see me again, and
that you leave word at the Gordon Arms where you are to be heard of, and
when I next call for you, be it in church or market, at wedding or at
burial, Sunday or Saturday, mealtime or fasting, that ye leave everything
else and come with me.'

'Why, that will do you little good, mother.'

'But 'twill do yoursell muckle, and that's what I'm thinking o'. I am not
mad, although I have had eneugh to make me sae; I am not mad, nor
doating, nor drunken. I know what I am asking, and I know it has been the
will of God to preserve you in strange dangers, and that I shall be the
instrument to set you in your father's seat again. Sae give me your
promise, and mind that you owe your life to me this blessed night.'

'There's wildness in her manner, certainly,' thought Brown, 'and yet it
is more like the wildness of energy than of madness.'--'Well, mother,
since you do ask so useless and trifling a favour, you have my promise.
It will at least give me an opportunity to repay your money with
additions. You are an uncommon kind of creditor, no doubt, but--'

'Away, away, then!' said she, waving her hand. 'Think not about the goud,
it's a' your ain; but remember your promise, and do not dare to follow me
or look after me.' So say