e said mair. But it can not be.
Stay"--she continued, stretched her head toward the gleam of light
that shot through the narrow slit which served for a window--"is he
not there?--stand out o' the light, and let me look upon him ance
mair. But the darkness is in my ain een," she said, sinking back,
after an earnest gaze upon vacuity--"it's a' ended now.

'Pass breath,
Come death!"

And, sinking back upon her couch of straw, she expired without a
groan.

III

A VISION OF ROB ROY[9]

When, however, I recollected the circumstances in which we formerly
met, I could not doubt that the billet was most probably designed for
him. He had made a marked figure among those mysterious personages
over whom Diana seemed to exercise an influence, and from whom she
experienced an influence in her turn. It was painful to think that
the fate of a being so amiable was involved in that of desperadoes of
this man's description; yet it seemed impossible to doubt it. Of what
use, however, could this person be to my father's affairs. I could
think only of one. Rashleigh Osbaldistone had, at the instigation of
Miss Vernon, certainly found means to produce Mr. Campbell when his
presence was necessary to exculpate me from Morris's accusation. Was
it not possible that her influence, in like manner, might prevail on
Campbell to produce Rashleigh? Speaking on this supposition, I
requested to know where my dangerous kinsman was, and when Mr.
Campbell had seen him. The answer was indirect.

"It's a kittle cast she has gien me to play; but yet it's fair play,
and I winna baulk her. Mr. Osbaldistone, I dwell not very far from
hence--my kinsman can show you the way. Leave Mr. Owen to do the best
he can in Glasgow--do you come and see me in the glens, and it's like
I may pleasure you, and stead your father in his extremity. I am but a
poor man; but wit's better than wealth--and, cousin" (turning from me
to address Mr. Jarvie), "if ye daur venture sae muckle as to eat a
dish of Scotch collops, and a leg o' red-deer venison wi' me, come ye
wi' this Sassenach gentleman as far as Drymen or Bucklivie, or the
Clachan of Aberfoil, will be better than ony o' them, and I'll hae
somebody waiting to weise ye to the gate to the place where I may be
for the time. What say ye, man? There's my thumb, I'll ne'er beguile
thee."

"Na, na, Robin," said the cautious burgher, "I seldom like to leave
the Gorbals, I have nae freedom to gang among your w