[Redgauntlet by Sir Walter Scott]@TWC D-Link book
Redgauntlet

INTRODUCTION
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They lap off, and my gudesire, as seemed to him, fastened his horse to the very ring he had tied him to that morning, when he gaed to wait on the young Sir John.
'God!' said my gudesire, 'if Sir Robert's death be but a dream!' He knocked at the ha' door just as he was wont, and his auld acquaintance, Dougal MacCallum--just after his wont, too,--came to open the door, and said, 'Piper Steenie, are ye there, lad?
Sir Robert has been crying for you.' My gudesire was like a man in a dream--he looked for the stranger, but he was gane for the time.

At last he just tried to say, 'Ha! Dougal Driveower, are ye living?
I thought ye had been dead.' 'Never fash yoursell wi' me,' said Dougal, 'but look to yoursell; and see ye tak naethlng frae ony body here, neither meat, drink, or siller, except just the receipt that is your ain.' So saying, he led the way out through halls and trances that were weel kend to my gudesire, and into the auld oak parlour; and there was as much singing of profane sangs, and birling of red wine, and speaking blasphemy and sculduddry, as had ever been in Redgauntlet Castle when it was at the blithest.
But, Lord take us in keeping, what a set of ghastly revellers they were that sat around that table! My gudesire kend mony that had long before gane to their place, for often had he piped to the most part in the hall of Redgauntlet.

There was the fierce Middleton, and the dissolute Rothes, and the crafty Lauderdale; and Dalyell, with his bald head and a beard to his girdle; and Earlshall, with Cameron's blude on his hand; and wild Bonshaw, that tied blessed Mr.Cargill's limbs till the blude sprung; and Dunbarton Douglas, the twice-turned traitor baith to country and king.

There was the Bluidy Advocate MacKenyie, who, for his worldly wit and wisdom had been to the rest as a god.

And there was Claverhouse, as beautiful as when he lived, with his long, dark, curled locks streaming down over his laced buff-coat, and his left hand always on his right spule-blade, to hide the wound that the silver bullet had made.
[See Note 2.] He sat apart from them all, and looked at them with a melancholy, haughty countenance; while the rest hallooed, and sang, and laughed, that the room rang.


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