Go hence, and enjoy the happiness prepared for thee at home!" "Never stir," said Hobbie, "if I wadna take you wi' me, man, if ye wad but say it wad divert ye to be at the bridal on Monday.

There will be a hundred strapping Elliots to ride the brouze--the like's no been seen sin' the days of auld Martin of the Preakin-tower--I wad send the sled for ye wi' a canny powny." "Is it to me you propose once more to mix in the society of the common herd ?" said the Recluse, with an air of deep disgust.
"Commons!" retorted Hobbie, "nae siccan commons neither; the Elliots hae been lang kend a gentle race." "Hence! begone!" reiterated the Dwarf; "may the same evil luck attend thee that thou hast left behind with me! If I go not with you myself, see if you can escape what my attendants, Wrath and Misery, have brought to thy threshold before thee." "I wish ye wadna speak that gate," said Hobbie.

"Ye ken yoursell, Elshie, naebody judges you to be ower canny; now, I'll tell ye just ae word for a'-- ye hae spoken as muckle as wussing ill to me and mine; now, if ony mischance happen to Grace, which God forbid, or to mysell; or to the poor dumb tyke; or if I be skaithed and injured in body, gudes, or gear, I'll no forget wha it is that it's owing to." "Out, hind!" exclaimed the Dwarf; "home! home to your dwelling, and think on me when you find what has befallen there." "Aweel, aweel," said Hobbie, mounting his horse, "it serves naething to strive wi' cripples,--they are aye cankered; but I'll just tell ye ae thing, neighbour, that if things be otherwise than weel wi' Grace Armstrong, I'se gie you a scouther if there be a tar-barrel in the five parishes." So saying, he rode off; and Elshie, after looking at him with a scornful and indignant laugh, took spade and mattock, and occupied himself in digging a grave for his deceased favourite.
A low whistle, and the words, "Hisht, Elshie, hisht!" disturbed him in this melancholy occupation.

He looked up, and the Red Reiver of Westburnflat was before him.

Like Banquo's murderer, there was blood on his face, as well as upon the rowels of his spurs and the sides of his over-ridden horse.
"How now, ruffian!" demanded the Dwarf, "is thy job chared ?" "Ay, ay, doubt not that, Elshie," answered the freebooter; "When I ride, my foes may moan.