I cannot aid him if
I would, and I am resolved--firmly resolved, that I would not aid him,
if a wish were the pledge of his safety!"
Having thus ended his soliloquy, he retreated into his hut for shelter
from the storm which was fast approaching, and now began to burst in
large and heavy drops of rain. The last rays of the sun now disappeared
entirely, and two or three claps of distant thunder followed each other
at brief intervals, echoing and re-echoing among the range of heathy
fells like the sound of a distant engagement.
CHAPTER VII.
Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn!--
. . . .
Return to thy dwelling; all lonely, return;
For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood,
And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood.--CAMPBELL.
The night continued sullen and stormy; but morning rose as if refreshed
by the rains. Even the Mucklestane-Moor, with its broad bleak swells of
barren grounds, interspersed with marshy pools of water, seemed to smile
under the serene influence of the sky, just as good-humour can spread
a certain inexpressible charm over the plainest human countenance.
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