gerous castle of her husband. The first words she spoke (holding up her hand in a reproving manner,) were, "Said I not to ye, Make not, meddle not?—Beware of the redding strake! you are come to no house o' fair-strae death." So saying, she raised the lamp, and turned its light on the dying man, whose rude and harsh features were now convulsed with the last agony. A roll of linen about his head was stained with blood, which had soaked also through the blankets and the straw. It was, indeed, under no natural disease that the wretch was suffering. Brown started back from this horrible object, and, turning to the gypsey, exclaimed, "Wretched woman, who has done this?"
"They that were permitted," answered Meg Merrilies, while she scanned with a close and keen glance the features of the expiring man,—"He has had a sair struggle—but it's passing—I knew he would pass when you came in.—That was the death ruckle—he's dead."—Sounds were now
